


What He Won't Admit

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Charlie [4]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Charlie's done, Charlie's the good Samaritan again, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Pining, Worst Birthday Ever, one year after Emily's death, tom needs to get it together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 21:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: In these 3 parts we'll see the aftermath of the kiss. Will they get themselves together, or will they end up more hurt than ever before?





	1. What He Won't Admit

**Author's Note:**

> Prepare yourselves. These three one-shots were difficult to write, but it had to be done to move forward.

 

Charlie’s had a quiet shift for once. Just the usual flu, colds or broken arms. No over time today, no night shift, no nothing. And actually a free day tomorrow.

It fits her plans nicely, considering she’s about to have the famous Third Date tonight.

Speaking of which, there she spots him, walking through the doors of the corridor, smile in place, swagger in his steps and his blondish hair not too styled just as she likes it.

“Hi,” he whispers, almost shyly, pressing a light kiss on her cheek.

“Hi, Jeremy,” Charlie whispers back.

They’re colleagues, there’s always been a connection and some kind of friendship.

And then Tom happened. And then the kiss happened. And then Tom told her right after, the morning she woke up in his flat actually – almost two months ago – that he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready, the kiss had been a mistake and she really shouldn’t wait for him to come around. He couldn’t do that while thinking of Emily and he wants to be there for Evie.

So, she doesn’t. She’s fine with being friends, if Tom doesn’t want her and she somehow understands. She can’t wait along for him to finally see what’s in front of him so she won’t. She’ll live her life and enjoy it.

And Jeremy’s asked her out for the first time almost four weeks ago. For a coffee that led to dinner. Then for dinner and a movie and lots of lunches and coffee breaks that don’t really count as dates.

“I’m looking forward to tonight,” he says, and Charlie can’t help but agree.

“Me, too.”

She really does.

Being with Jeremy is so…easy, though that word makes it sound somehow cheap and boring, and it’s neither. It’s just nice–and reassuring–to know where she stands with Jeremy. To not have to try so hard and doubt whether it’s all one-sided.

That doesn’t mean that she’s given up on Tom completely, though. Deep down, she can’t. But she also doesn’t want to feel lonely or question her own heart and mind all the time.

Tom has no idea she’s dating someone. They’re not exactly discussing their (non-existent) love life, so it’s not as if she’s lying to him.

“Is seven o’clock alright?” Jeremy asks, interrupting her thoughts.

Charlie nods, feeling a niggle of anticipation. It IS going to be their third date after all…

“Good,” he whispers, then smiles. “Do you wanna do anything special? I could, you know, cook for you at my place?”

Ah. So he’s aware it’s a third date as well. Charlie smirks. “At your place, huh?”

“Yep.”

The grin says it all and Charlie almost swoons when she looks over Jeremy’s shoulder, hearing the corridor door open one more. “Oh, shit.”

She only realises she’s said it aloud when she sees Jeremy’s brows furrow and his quiet, “what?” pulls her out of it.

Of course, they’d be here, of course they’d visit now.

“Doctor Charlie!” her favourite almost-five-year-old (little Evie insists she’s not just 4) calls and barrels for her, the girl’s aunt close behind.

“You know them?” Jeremy whispers and Charlie nods.

“Yeah.”

Charlie barely has time to set her feet apart and brace herself for impact before Evie launches herself at her. She manages somehow not to fall over, though the two of them sway quite a bit.

“Doctor Charlie!” the girl squeals again and clins to her in a tight hug.

She’s clearly inherited her hugging habits from her father…and her stubborn streak, judging from her aunt’s slightly harassed expression.

Charlie extricates herself from the embrace and leans down. “Evie, what are you doing here?” Her eyes frantically scan for mysterious injuries that warrant a hospital visit and find none.

Emma, Tom’s sister, answers instead, grinning apologetically. “We bought some medicine at the pharmacy down the road and this little mule-headed spitfire insisted we’d have to walk 50 metres more and visit you.”

Her heart squeezing oddly, Charlie smiles at Evie while also raising her brows.

“And you couldn’t have waited until this Sunday when I’ll be over for my usual visit?”

“Nuh-uh.”

Evie’s pigtails bounce as she shakes her head–then freezes comically when she finally sees Jeremy standing closeby.

She scrunches up her little face, her eyes almost popping out of her head. “Who are you? Do you know Doctor Charlie?”

Whelp.

Much to his credit, Jeremy crouches down on eye level with the little girl, holding out his hand. “I’m Jeremy,” he says. “And I do know Charlie. How do you know her?”

Oh please. Oh, please no. Charlie ignores Emma’s – quite interested – look, or at least tries to, and hopes Evie won’t say too much.

“Charlie helped my Daddy. And she gave me Boots,” Evie answers and actually shakes Jeremy’s hand.

“Boots? Like… shoes?”

Evie giggles. “Nooo, Boots is Blanket’s brother.”

That Jeremy picks up on. He’s heard about Charlie’s cat of course. He stands up again, letting go of Evie’s hand and instead brushes Charlie’s wrist.

“Ah, I know Blanket of course.”

Charlie just wants the ground to swallow her and tries not to feel Emma’s eyes on her, the woman’s brows probably raised.

Damn it all.

Evidently, Evie is on a roll. It shouldn’t surprise her, the little girl is as curious–and smart–as they come.

Unleashing the full force of her gaze on Jeremy, she asks, “You know Blanket? Did Doctor Charlie bringed him to work?”

Whelp again.

Jeremy exchanges a look with Charlie, a bit flustered now. “No, she did not bring the kitten to the hospital.”

There’s a small gasp from Evie as she steps closer.

“Oh, so you met Blanket when you were at Doctor Charlie’s home.”

Charlie actually cringes, though she’s got nothing to be ashamed of. Emma’s brows are rising higher and she’s pretty sure she’s heard stifled snickering.

“Do you visit Doctor Charlie’s house like Daddy and I sometimes do?” the inquisitive child asks innocently, and Charlie exchanges another look with Jeremy who stutters, “Uhm…well, I visited her once…” and looks pretty confused.

“We visited more than one time,” Evie answers, pride evident in her voice. “Because Daddy and I like her very much.”

“Well,” Jeremy starts, eyes darting between the little girl, her aunt, and Charlie. “She’s pretty great isn’t she?”

That actually makes Charlie blush and now she’s sure she can hear some kind of sigh leaving Emma while Evie nods enthusiastically.

“Why, thank you,” Charlie mumbles, and then grabs Jeremy’s arm to turn him around with her. A few feet away from those very curious ears – and Charlie doesn’t just mean Evie’s – will do them some good. “Excuse me for a moment.”

When there are a few feet between them, Charlie lets out a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “And please don’t think I’m dating her father, I’m not! They do visit and I visit, but he’s lost his wife very close to one year ago. And somehow I… helped? I don’t know…” she rambles until she suddenly feels Jeremy’s fingers on her cheek.

“No need to apologise. No need to explain, okay?” he says, and then actually leans forward to press a tiny kiss on her lips.

She smiles into it and then rolls her eyes at Evie’s voice echoing through the hall, “Ew, Auntie Em, he kisses Charlie!”

The following hiss of “Evie Hiddleston, behave yourself,” has Jeremy’s eyes go wide.

“Hiddleston?” he whispers, close to Charlie’s ear, making her skin tickle. “That Hiddleston?”

Ugh.

Charlie nods. To her, Tom isn’t even ‘that Hiddleston’ anymore. Maybe it’s his grumpiness in the beginning or his emotional turmoil or the fact that she’s so close to his daughter, but somewhere along the way he’s morphed from the - now taking things slower - movie star into just Tom.

A man she sometimes finds too infuriating for words and at other times wants to get to know better.

“Wow.” Jeremy is grinning at her with an expression she hasn’t seen on his face before. “Do you supose you could…you know, get Loki to sign something for me?”

It’s Charlie’s turn to blink and falter.

This day is getting stranger and stranger.

“Don’t you think that’d be a little strange?” she asks after a few moments of stunned silence.

Jeremy runs a hand up and down his neck. “But maybe just a little?”

Charlie scoffs. “I’ll see what I can do.” No need to explain why that conversation would be awkward in so many different ways. Because that explanation would be as well.

“You’re charming, I think you’ll manage,” Jeremy grins and leans forward again.

But before he can kiss her, Evie’s voice interrupts them. “Can you stop kissing Doctor Charlie now?” she whines.

“Sorry,” Charlie whispers, “She’s a little demanding.”

“She wants to spend time with you. Can’t really blame her,” Jeremy grins. Then he turns and adds a little louder, “Dear Evie, I won’t monopolize Charlie anymore, she’s all yours. Well, until tonight that is.” With a cheeky grin and a little wink he waves at Charlie and leaves towards the emergency room.

When Charlie returns to Emma and Evie she’s met with a big grin from the little girl and a way too knowing smile from Emma.

“So?” Tom’s sister asks. “Date number what is it tonight?”

“Three,” Charlie mumbles and then is saved by Evie.

“What’s a date and how many numbers are there?” The curious child wants to know.

Or well, maybe she’s not saved.

She’s dealing with children every single day, and they come from all walks of life and ask all sorts of things–but it never involves her private life and the daughter of a man she shouldn’t kind of still be interested in.

Well, she isn’t. Tom’s been relegated to the friend zone because it was his wish. Right? Right.

So Charlie searches for the right words while at the same time walking along to find a quieter spot so not everyone will hear about Doctor Charlie and her Third Date.

“You know, when two adults like each other, they want to spend time together. So they go out on dates. To the restaurant, for example. Or to see a movie.”

Evie is listening with those big, blue eyes so focused that Charlie is reminded of her father and the way he is always 300 percent attentive (when he’s not in one of his moods).

“‘mkay. That’s nice.”

Charlie smiles tentatively, aware of Emma hovering and remaining ominously silent.

“Yes,” she agrees, recalling how nice her last two dates were indeed.

Before relief can settle in, the little girl scrunches up her face. “Daddy likes you, and you also like him, right? Why don’t you two go on a date?”

Well, hell.

She must look like a fish, opening and closing her mouth a few times with no sound coming out. Charlie also ignores the chuckles coming from Emma.

“Well, you see… grown-ups need to like each other in a special way. Liking isn’t enough.”

“Ooooh,” Evie answers, nodding gravely. “Okay.”

Okay? Good. Because Charlie doesn’t know what else to say or do. She won’t survive another question.

But of course those two women related to Tom are insufferable.

“And anything special planned for date number  _three_?” Emma asks in that infuriating Hiddleston-way.

“No,” Charlie grits out and shoots her a look while trying to maintain a smile for the younger Hiddleston.

* * *

And then that’s been that for that particular conversation. No more awkward answers and when they left, Charlie still had two hours of work before she had to get ready.

She’d chosen a dress and went to Jeremy’s flat and God, did he look good. He’d cooked chicken and vegetables and they drank some wine and then it was clear they both had the same expectations for their third date.

She still tingles from that. From that and from yesterday and from this morning.

Yep, tingles in her body and images in her mind.

So many images that she’s now pressing her thighs together and smothers her grin as she’s standing in front of Tom’s and Evie’s place.

It’s their scheduled Sunday meeting and again, as the door opens, Charlie morphs her – a little bit crazy – grin into a polite smile and greets Tom, who looks a little flustered today, probably because Evie didn’t want to eat her breakfast again.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” she answers.

“Doctor Charlie!” A live bullet in the shape of a little girl with non-matching socks barrels along the corridor and launches herself at Charlie.

It reminds her of a few days ago at the hospital, and she blushes some more while hugging Evie.

Tom automatically puts out a steadying hand on her shoulder, and the happiness she always sees in his eyes when his daughter interacts with her squeezes Charlie’s heart.

She hugs the child and steps into the building. “Are you inventing a new fashion style?” she asks with raised brows, pointing to one blue sock with yellow polka dots and one red-and-yellow striped sock.

Evie gurgles with laughter. “Silly. I’m too young to care about fashion.” Before Tom can scold her, she adds, “The sock monster has eaten socks again so I’m wearing these two.”

“The sock monster, huh?” Charlie grins, spotting a matching grin on Tom’s face with its ginger scruff.

He nods. “It’s the Tupperware Lid Monster’s brother,” he says with a wink.

He takes Charlie’s light coat to hang it up and then pads into the living room, Charlie and Evie following.

“Did you have a nice weekend?” Tom asks conversationally as he puts away some of Evie’s toys.

In the meantime, Charlie settles on the couch with the little girl. Nice weekend. Yup, indeed. But maybe she shouldn’t say that.

“It’s been quiet,” she answers, not exactly lying after all. It has been quiet most of the time.

“Did you have to work?” he asks, back turned to her. It feels so domestic. She’s here because she wants to be and they want to be but they don’t have to do anything special. It’s nice.

“Yes. Only morning until afternoon, though,” she says while Evie plays with some loose strands of Charlie’s shirt. “And now I just want to enjoy the Sunday to be honest.”

“Sounds good,” Tom replies at the same time as Evie asks, “Did you see Doctor Jeremy too?”

Oh.

She hears something fall on the floor and then sees how Tom bends to pick it up.

“Who’s that?” he asks and then turns around, eyes shifting from Charlie to Evie and back. “And how do you know anything about other doctors, little one?”

“I meeted him!” the little girl exclaims, obviously upset that Tom doesn’t seem to think her capable of meeting more grown-ups.

A brow raises. “Oh?”

“With auntie Emma when I visited Charlie. He’s very nice.”

“Is he now?”

 

Tom looks from an oblivious Evie to a rather caught-out and fidgeting Charlie. His eyes narrow and he can’t hold the next words back.

“What makes you think he’s nice if you don’t even really know him, Evie?”

His daughter makes herself more comfortable on Charlie’s lap, which doesn’t stop the doctor from fumbling with the hem of her sweater. She’s wearing comfy, a little ratty clothes that look perfectly ordinary but still make her seem beautiful. Something inside Tom registers that she obviously doesn’t feel the need to dress up for their Sunday meetings. Well, he doesn’t want her to. Or does he?

“He must be nice if Charlie likes him,” Evie announces in that wonderfully direct, simple way children have. “And also, he kissed Doctor Charlie. Like you kissed Mum those days.”

The magazine Tom has been clutching thuds to the floor. Again.

“Uhm,” Charlie starts. Whelp. Thank you for that, Evie. Tom looks a bit like he’s been slapped and then he hastily picks up the magazine. Again.

“Did he now?” he mumbles, but Charlie can still hear him.

Evie too, apparently. “He did! And he said she’s great! And she must be because they like each other in a special way.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up. Charlie’s never had the need to strangle Evie, no matter what kind of temper tantrum she's had, but right now that urge is strong.

“In a special way? Who told you that?”

“Charlie did. Because they day.”

“Day? Do you mean ‘date’?”

Okay. He sounds pissed. Maybe because she didn’t tell him? They’re friends, maybe they should talk about things like that?

And he wanted it that way. He surely can’t be pissed about that?

“Oh. Yeah. Date.”

Now, Charlie locks eyes with Tom. They’re narrowed and Charlie continues fidgeting nervously. That’s not how she’s planned her Sunday.

He shouldn’t be so surprised–if it’s surprise he’s feeling.

Charlie’s an attractive woman, he can damn well vouch for that. And her heart is just as attractive. Of course, she’d end up with someone sooner or later.

But…so soon?

And did it have to be a ‘very nice’ doctor?

Tom stares unseeingly at the magazine in his hands, then smacks it down on the coffee table with a bit too much force.

He’s feeling…out of sorts. But this is his Sunday with Evie and Charlie, and he won’t be an arse. Hopefully.

“Lovely,” he forces out between gritted teeth, then calls on his acting skills to manage a smile and reassure both ladies in the room.

“Cake and tea, anyone?”

He doesn’t even wait for Evie’s enthusiastic ‘yayyyy’ before hightailing it into the kitchen, leaving the door open.

Okay, well, they’re going to have cake and tea apparently. From the kitchen Charlie hears the clattering of what she assumes are plates and cups.

She stops Evie from wiggling too much – she is a little sore after all. But that’s also something she shouldn’t say.

With a sigh, she pokes the little girl sitting in her lap. “Come on, let’s get up.”

“Can you carry me?” Well, she can, but her legs hurt a bit.

“You’re a big girl, you can walk.”

And so they do, Evie with a big pout and Charlie with an eye roll. Tom’s at the counter, putting cake on plates with – again – a little too much force. The water’s boiling and when he pours it, it almost sloshes over.

“To the table you go,” Tom says, his voice a little too sweet to be genuine. Great.

“Yay!” Evie shouts.

“Yay,” Charlie and Tom mumble simultaneously, all sitting down at the same time.

* * *

For a few minutes, it’s silent apart from the clatter of cups, plates, forks and spoons–Tom’s a little louder while Evie takes extra care with handling the cutlery and sweet treats, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Tom looks rather like he’s boiling as much as the water did just a minute ago, and Charlie isn’t sure whether to feel exasparated or a tiny bit smug. But she really doesn’t want her Sunday ruined, so she searches for something innocent to talk about.

“Evie, is there any news on the ‘bring your pet to school’-event you mentioned last time?”

Immediately, eyes shiny and cheeks stuffed full of cake, the little girl chatters about that day she’s looking forward to so much. It warms Charlie’s heart how much Evie loves Boots, and even Tom’s expression is more genuinely nice now as he sips his tea between huge bites of cheesecake.

Maybe she can avoid the bomb detonation she’s been dreading.

Just when she relaxes, Evie says, “Maybe you could come to school that day? The teacher sayed that family and friends can come too. You could bring Doctor Jeremy because he knows Blanket but not Boots.”

There’s a clattering-clanking sound and a bitten-off, tame curse as Tom dives below the table to retrieve his fallen fork.

He stays right there, taking a few calming – not that it works in any way – breaths.

First of all, how the fuck does his daughter know so much about this stupid Doctor Jeremy? But then again, she probably just asked lots of questions, it’s not that surprising.

And why the fuck does this Jeremy guy know Blanket? He’s been at her home, hasn’t he?

Tom feels slightly faint all of the sudden. Maybe he should just stay down here for the rest of the day? Maybe the rest of the month?

But no. Damn them all. He’s going to be an adult about this. Yes. That’s what’s going to happen. Adulting.

“Daddy?” Tom hears Evie above the table, voice laced with giggles.

“Coming up. Sorry, lost the grip on my fork.”

When he’s back at the table, ignoring the looks from Charlie and rather forcefully stabbing his piece of cake, the woman in front of him speaks up.

“I think, we shouldn’t bring Jeremy, okay? He’s fine with meeting Blanket I think.”

“Oh but why not?” Tom chimes in. “Bring him. Gotta meet that very nice doctor, don’t we? Now that he’s in the picture.”

What the hell is he doing?! Where’s that ‘adulting’ thing from literally seconds ago?

Evie, oblivious to the tension, bounces in her seat and gets a small cake splotch on her sleeve.

“Oh yes, you HAVE to bring him. See, Daddy wants to meet him too.”

Tom looks as if he’s bitten into a lemon for a second before his poker face is back and he nods.

Flustered, Charlie busies herself wiping the girl’s sleeve, her own cake basically untouched. Is Tom really trying to be nice or is he reacting on instinct? What is he feeling, for heck’s sake?

“Sure, sure, bring him. The more, the merrier. It not like I can stake any claim on you, right?”

Something about Tom’s tone grates on her nerves but before Charlie can answer, Evie interrupts again, clapping her hands.

“We’ll have such fun. You can make it your day…no, date Four."

Charlie freezes, and Tom’s eyebrows shoot so high it would be comical if she wasn’t mortified.

“I see.” It comes out as a low growl. “So you’re back from the  _third_ date.” He crosses his arms, and she’s totally not ogling the way that stretches his sweater.

“I sure hope you had…fun?”

Okay, Charlie thinks, okay, this is _so_  it. He wants to be a jerk about this? Asking, not out of curiosity like Emma did, but because he wants to be an ass?

Great. She can be one too.

“You know, Tom, actually yes. We’ve had lots of fun. He cooked for me and we watched a movie,” she says, waiting to see a reaction.

And then just as he relaxes, she adds, “and we danced. In the bedroom.”

“How exciting!” is Evie’s reaction, while Tom looks like he wants to punch someone, probably Jeremy.

“That’s…great,” he grits out.

“That’s more than great. It’s very enjoyable. In fact, we not only danced on our third date, we did it yesterday and this morning as well. More than once.”

Charlie doesn’t know where it’s coming from, she’s not usually one to tell all. But damn that infuriating man. If he wants to be immature, she’s right there with him.

“Can you teach me how to dance?” Evie asks. “Me and Daddy?”

As Tom stares ahead, Charlie answers, “It’s a special kind of dance adults do. You don’t dance with just anybody.”

Then she leans back, arms crossed.

Well, fuck.

Tom stares, stares some more, then abruptly downs the last of his tea. It’s a good thing it isn’t scaldingly hot anymore, but to be honest, at this point a burned throat would probably hurt less than what he’s just heard.

It serves him right, though, doesn’t it? He’s been a bit of an arse. Well, okay, a downright wanker. But…but…

Swallowing down a few choice words, he stabs his fork into the innocent cake that now tastes like sawdust and rust, agressively gobbling it up so he won’t make a comment he’s going to regret for the rest of his life.

He’s already regretting quite a lot of things…

Especially those images of Charlie and stupid fucking Doctor Jeremy enjoying their ‘bedroom dance’.

“Charlie, you’re not eating your cake,” Evie’s voice interrupts his murderous thoughts.

“Well, you know…” Charlie fixes Tom in a narrow-eyed glare, arms still crossed. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

Tom chokes on a bite of food, barely registering Evie’s confused expression. Something about the way Charlie sits there, something deep inside her eyes, tugs at him and shoves the green-eyed monster to the side only to elbow him in the ribs with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, but whatever else he might’ve said is cut off by his daughter’s exasparated words. “But you’re eating your cake, Daddy. Why are  _you_  apo…aplo…saying sorry?”

He drags his eyes away from Charlie to look at his daughter. “Because I  _am_  eating my cake  _and_ probably want some more afterwards.”

Tom knows Evie won’t understand, but he hopes Charlie does. He didn’t ruin it all, did he? Whatever friendship they have.

But Charlie does not look at him when he searches her eyes again. Instead she’s staring down at her lap while she plays with the hem of her sweater.

“But now you’re silly, Daddy. You can just eat Charlie’s.”

At that she looks up and smiles – it looks forced – at his little daughter. “I share, if being asked nicely, Evie. And if the gesture is appreciated.”

She shakes a little, Tom sees. He’s not sure if it’s from anger, sadness, or – and that’s the worst case – hurt.

Tom gulps. He knows what she means. He’s taken her for granted, hasn’t he?

“See, Daddy? You just have to ask nicely and say thank you!”

Yeah. If only he could find that childish simplicity in himself again.

In many ways, Tom has always tried to retain some of his childhood character traits, his enthusiasm and curiosity. But losing Em was a hard blow that made him grow up in ways he isn’t even aware of sometimes.

Who knows, if he wasn’t so hurt and tainted by tragedy now, he might never have had to deal with Charlie dating someone else.

Then again, what he needs is her friendship, right? Right. And he’s about to lose it because he’s an arse par excellence.

Choosing his words carefully, he hopes Charlie will understand. ”You’re right, Evie. But you know what? I think I’ve changed my mind. Charlie deserves all the cake in the world. And it’s her decicion whether she wants to eat it or not. Or share it with me…with us.”

This time, she does lift her head to look at him.

“And you won’t sulk, whatever I decide?”

He digs deep and musters a halfway convincing grin. “I’ll try not to. But you know how much I…appreciate cake. It’s very…important to me.”

It’s time to narrow her eyes again. How genuine is he really?

Not a minute ago Tom looked as if he wanted to kill his cake slowly and painfully. And now, with one comment from her, all is fine again?

Charlie doesn’t quite know of she should be happy or even a little offended.

“It’s nice that you appreciate cake so much,” is all she can think of.

“You two are strange,” Evie chimes in. And really, she’s right. Although it’s not what Evie means, she’s right. This whole relationship between them was strange from the beginning.

“We are,” Tom says. “And I do appreciate cake. More than I should probably.” His stare is intense and though he’s smiling, Charlie can see his lips wavering a bit.

But no. No pity party for Tom. If he wants Charlie to believe him, and if he wants to be her friend and not some jealous almost-lover, he needs to mean it.

“Probably,” she answers and then continues, “So, I’ve got a question for you actually. Jeremy is a huge Loki fan. You wouldn’t mind sign something for him? It’d be such a nice gesture.”

So, she waits. Waits, feels a little bad and guilty, sees Tom’s jaw work as if it’s grinding stones, and then waits some more.

Well, fuck, yet again.

He’s really paying for being a stupid git, isn’t he?

But Tom’s always been someone who believed in setting wrongs right and owing up to his own mistakes. It hurts, dammit. He’s got these weird killing urges inside him, and a whole lot of insecurity on top of it all. But beneath, buried yet not forgotten, is what he feels for Charlie.

She does deserve all the ‘cake’. He means that. And if he wants her friendship, he’ll bloody well walk over hot coals or glass shards. No, make that Lego pieces because he’s a bit too familiar with stepping on those pesky, painful buggers.

And so he relaxes his jaw bit by bit, works on his smile and gives Charlie a nod.

“Sure. Did he give you anything to sign?”

Her eyes widen almost comically and Tom suppresses the urge to shout, ‘Ha! Didn’t see that coming, did you?’ in her face.

He manages though, and simply raises his right brow a bit, waiting for her answer.

“He’s given me an Avengers poster actually,” Charlie grins and rolls her eyes a bit.

It hurts. There’s a little stab in Tom’s heart, seeing that gesture. They’re comfortable with each other, knowing a few things about each other. Charlie and Jeremy, that is.

She’s smitten with him, isn’t she? Tom tries not to sigh, opting for a – little strained – grin instead.

“I feel honoured.”

“He’s such a nerd. Wait, I’ll get it.”

She stands up, still looking a little unsure about that whole situation and then shrugs her shoulders a bit, and ruffles Evie’s.

His daughter is still munching on her cake happily, grinning after a leaving Charlie before she turns to Tom.

“Can I eat Charlie’s cake, if you don’t want to?”

* * *

Charlie hears the little girl’s question and smirks to herself. Like father, like daughter. These two with their sweet tooth will be every dentist’s dream one day.

Sure enough, she can barely hear Tom’s answer, “Alright, but only if Daddy gets a bite or two as well.”

He sounds almost normal again, but it’s the ‘almost’ that makes her grin fade.

She’s got no idea whether she’s too hard on Tom or whether he deserves every damn second of this, to be honest.

He’s the one who wanted to be only friends–but she has to give him credit too because he’s obviously still vulnerable when it comes to–seemingly–losing someoe important to him. It’s taken him so long to open up to her, and now she’s throwing Jeremy in his face.

But dammit, she just wants to be a normal woman sometimes. To not be reduced to someone helping him, though she knows she’s more than that to him and Evie.

With a determined lift to her chin, Charlie walks to her car and rummages around the glove compartment until she’s found the rolled-up poster.

Maybe she should simply have faith in Tom, she thinks on the way back inside. He IS a wonderful man, even with all his baggage. And she’s not going to feel ashamed of Jeremy or hide her relationship for his sake.

* * *

“Ta-daa,” she announces herself as she enters the kitchen again, suppressing a smirk as she sees two chocolate covered mouths grinning back at her. “Did you leave any cake for me?”

Tom at least has the decency to look sheepish while Evie blurts out, “No, you didn’t eat yours.”

Tom’s chuckle and his ruffling of Evie’s hair is the first time today that it looks genuine, and Charlie relaxes a bit. Maybe everything won’t be as bad as she thinks right now. Maybe they’ll be fine.

“So, here’s the poster,” she says as she sits back on the chair and rolls it out. “Thank you, Tom. You’re doing me a huge favour.”

“You’re welcome.” It sounds genuine as well and he looks even pleased to sign it.

“You’re making me look very good in Jeremy’s eyes, probably,” Charlie grins.

Shit.

That’s not exactly what he wants to achieve. Then again, Charlie looks happy. And decidedly more relaxed than some time ago. Maybe even hopeful?

Stomping down on his retort–So you need to bribe him with Marvel to look good in his eyes?–Tom leans over to reach out for the poster.

So what if he lets his fingers oh so accidentally brush hers? Friends are allowed to touch, right? It’s not like Doctor Jeremy holds exclusive rights now.

Shit again. He really does need to turn it down a notch. He’s got no bloody right to be jealous, if that’s what’s he’s feeling deep inside.

And so Tom takes extra care with the personal message he scribbles onto the margin before signing with a flourish and placing the poster back on the table.

Charlie’s felt the tingling sensation in her fingers when Tom’s touch brushed her hand. Whelp. She has to refrain from moving her hand, but manages.

It’s not like they’ve never touched before.

She giggles at his expression that’s so full of concentration, he’s even pushing his tongue out a little bit. Just as Evie does whenever she paints something difficult.

“You’re not supposed to write a novel on there, you know?” she jokes and then takes the poster to have a look at what he’s written.

Her eyes widen when she sees the message. Jeremy wouldn’t know what it means, maybe even find it strange, but she knows.

‘Thank you for being a fan of my work when yours is so much more important. I hope you like cake as much as Loki does,’ it reads above his signature.

When Charlie looks at Tom he’s busy wiping Evie’s mouth, so Charlie says nothing, but simply rolls up the poster again.

 


	2. Cake And Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie has quite possibly the worst birthday anyone can have.

 

  
Tom rings the bell, shifting from foot to foot in front of Charlie’s apartment door.

He hasn’t been here in a while. The reason stars with J, and he’s still got mixed feelings about it.

It’s not that he’s been taking himself - and Evie - out of Charlie’s life in the past three weeks since the revelation that she’s dating a doc (he can’t even appreciate the alliteration, dammit). In fact, he’s tried very hard–and succeeded at times–to be a loyal friend. But now the other man has the privilege to visit her at home, and really, he doesn’t want to dwell on that. (Oh, who’s he kidding?)

But today is an exception, and Tom has a hunch that he’s going to be needing his acting skills. Laughter and conversation filter out onto the street and he shifts some more. Why’s he here again? Oh, right. He’s Charlie’s friend.

His sigh is interrupted by Evie tugging on his hand–the one not holding the wrapped birthday gift for Charlie. He looks down at his daughter in one of her prettiest dresses that she’s insisted she wants to wear to the party.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, munchkin?”

“Cause it’s Doctor Charlie’s birfday, will you give her a birfday kiss this evening?”

Lord save him, this isn’t starting well…

Before he can answer – and explain – that no, it’s not a good idea and probably not appreciated to give Charlie a birthday kiss tonight, the door opens, and Tom nearly faints right then and there.

Charlie isn’t wearing jeans or sweatpants tonight. Not a sweater either. But then again, that would be a little too casual. He’s not wearing sweatpants as well.

The light pink dress is loose around the hips but tight around Charlie’s upper body and she does look cute in it.

It also helps that she’s smiling – glowing really – and looks almost giddy. Charlie loves having a birthday party obviously.

“Tom, Evie! So great to see you,” she smiles and then crouches down a little to greet Evie. “You look very beautiful, Evie.”

“You too!” his daughter practically shouts. And she’s right. “Happy birfday!”

“Aw, thanks.” Then she’s standing again and looks at Tom. He swallows heavily before he can even begin to form words.

“Happy birthday,” he manages.

He’s just standing there, staring and swallowing.

Charlie doesn’t know whether she should be amused or alarmed, but honestly she’s just happy that two of her favourite people have come, and she’s enjoying her evening.

Alright, okay, in all honesty, she’s also enjoying the way Tom’s eyes linger and almost caress her. And she shouldn’t.

Tom is still standing there after his somewhat croaked birthday wish, and they’re saved–or not–by Evie elbowing him in the upper thigh and making him flinch.

“The birfday kiss, Daddy,” she says a bit too loudly.

Yikes. Had father and daughter been discussing a birthday kiss or is this just Evie being her usual sassy, smart self?

To his credit–and to nobody’s surprise–Tom blushes bright red and clears his throat.

“Yeah, about that… Let’s just make it a birthday hug, alright?”

He leans in for one, a bit less coordinated than she’s used to, and something pokes her in the hip.

“Ouch,” she whispers. “Tom, are you…what?”

He lets go of her immediately, blushing even more right now. “It’s not… I’m not… It’s the present,” he says. “Here.” And then he almost shoves a wrapped gift into her arms. “From the two of us.”

Charlie almost wants to laugh at that. Of course it’s from the two of them. Who else?

“Thank you,” she answers and registers how Evie’s started to almost bounce.

“Open it!”

Just as Tom softly chimes in with an “Evie,” the door to the living-room somewhere behind Charlie opens.

“What’s taking you so long out here?” Jeremy asks and Charlie turns away from Tom and Evie to acknowledge her boyfriend standing in the doorway.

“I’ve got more presents,” she says and can’t help the grin as she raises her hand with the gift. She’s been happy about them all day since this morning.

Jeremy laughs. “You’re so spoilt today,” he says as he approaches and then stops dead in his tracks.

What the? Oh. Oh, of course. It’s Loki standing at the door. So, Charlie steps aside a bit and grins. Fanboy mode ‘on’ she guesses.

Jeremy nearly had a heart attack when he heard Tom would be coming.

“Hello, Doctor Jeremy,” Charlie hears behind her and then realises she’s been staring at said doctor a little too long, waiting for his reaction.

* * *

Alright. He needs to calm down. He can do this.

Tom wishes he still had the gift to cling to and occupy his hands. He also feels a bit overdressed in his beige-grey suit that he’s wearing minus a tie and with the top two buttons undone.

Doctor Jeremy is dressed in dark jeans and a button-down shirt. And he currently looks a bit star-struck–which would be comical if Tom didn’t have certain qualms to meet him.

“Th-thank you,” is the first thing the man finally says.

“Pardon?”

They both blink at each other before the doctor actually flushes a bit.

“I mean, thanks for signing my poster, Loki. I mean, Tom.”

Well. This is a bit awkward. Would’ve been easier if the man wasn’t obviously rather nice. Perhaps it’s all pretense? To get brownie points with Charlie?

Evie comes to the rescue, bless his little impetuous angel.

“Doctor Jeremy! I’m so mad at you!” she blurts out, pouting.

What? She is? But this man has stolen  _his_ Charlie, not hers. Right?

Well, not  _stolen_ per se. Certainly borrowed though. Or something.

Said man looks rather perplexed now, and Tom has to actively stop the smug grin that wants to steal itself on his face.

He’s been on the receiving end of that pout more times than he can count and it’s nice to see someone else struggle.

Would be nice, though, if his daughter wasn’t this familiar with Doctor Jeremy. It’s enough he’s captured the heart of one woman in Tom’s life.

And that woman has turned around now, as that stupid doctor has gotten closer. They’re actually holding hands now, that very stupid Jeremy crouching down a bit.

“What have I done, Evie?”

She points a finger at him and Tom lets that gesture slide this once. She’s mad, what’s he supposed to do? Tom looks at Charlie instead, who in turn looks down at Jeremy and Evie, a smile on her face.

Well, he won’t be looking at Charlie then.

“You never camed to school and looked at Boots.”

Ah, the drama of a small child and her righteous indignation.

Tom’s mouth twitches some more but he narrowly manages to hold the smug grin in again.

To his credit, stupid Jeremy is squirming now. But maybe he shouldn’t, because now Charlie looks like she’s feeling sorry for him.

Hey, she should feel sorry for Tom. He was the one who had to explain to Evie why the doc couldn’t make it to the ‘bring your pet to kindy’ day, disappointing her to no end last week.

Deciding that rubbing a little salt into the wound won’t hurt–well, not much–Tom backs his daughter, a hand on her shoulder.

“Indeed. Evie was really looking forward to introducing Boots to you…since you must be  _so_ familiar with Blanket now, visiting all the time.”

Whoops, is there a bit of a sneer in his tone. Bad Hiddleston.

* * *

What the heck?

Charlie’s head shoots up, her eyes trying to find Tom’s, only to see him looking at his daughter. That… that arse.

Of course, she told Jeremy and asked him to come along. But he had a surgery scheduled that day. A tumour removal in a small child’s body. A child he’s been treating for two years. Jeremy’s actually been gutted he couldn’t come that day.

And that is also what Charlie’s told Tom. And now he has the decency to guilt trip her boyfriend? And is that a smirk tugging at his lips?

“Evie,” Jermey starts with a sigh. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it. There was a small child, even a little smaller than you, who hurt very much and I had to make him feel a little better.”

Well, Charlie smirks, he’s working with children for a reason.

She ignores Tom clearing his throat. Instead she mirrors his action with Evie, putting a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder.

Her boyfriend looks over his shoulder at her, a tiny smile gracing his face. Charlie squeezes his shoulder a little. He’s a good one.

“Evie,” he continues then. “I really wanted to meet Boots, and I was so sad that I couldn’t. Maybe you’ll just bring him along the next time you visit Charlie? And then I’ll be here as well.”

Now, she can’t ignore Tom clearing his throat. Charlie looks at him, Tom looks at Jeremy, and Evie looks simply delighted, almost bouncing on her feet.

“Only, if your dad and Charlie both allow it, of course,” Jeremy adds, and Evie beams, looking between Charlie and Tom several times.

“I definitely allow it,” Charlie says softly.

Well, shitballs.

That’s backfired a bit, hasn’t it?

Tom clears his throat for the third time, this time because he needs to keep the instinctive ‘like hell I will’ from being said out loud.

He also wants to knock Charlie’s hand off that man’s shoulder, but of course that would sort of mean admitting he wants it on his shoulder. Which he totally doesn’t. Shouldn’t.

He fumbles for something to say, then winces a bit at his sugary tone when he hears himself answer, “That sounds absolutely lovely. But let’s not make any promises we might not be able to keep. I mean, we all know how quickly children can get disappointed.”

He’s not going to look at Charlie now. No.

“Oh, tell me about it,” stupid Jeremy answers Tom’s rather rhetorical statement. “It’s so hard to see that in the hospital.”

Yeah, he’s a saviour basically, Tom gets it. Charlie and Jeremy both are and Tom is someone who’s pretending to be somebody else for a living.

No need for that very stupid Jeremy to rub it in.

“Yeah, must be horrible,” Tom mumbles because he simply doesn’t know what else to say. Charlie and Jeremy are still touching and after not even ten minutes, Tom wants to leave again.

That’s not happening, that’s not just obvious by Evie’s – again – excited bouncing. “Can you open your present now?” It’s almost a whine from his daughter and stupid Jeremy has the decency to laugh.

“I’ll open it soon. Let’s get inside first, okay?” Charlie asks as Jeremy stands up and Evie leaves Tom’s side to bounce along with Charlie to the living-room.

Tom follows slowly, that doctor now next to him, beaming a little.

“I’m such a fan, Tom.”

“Great,” he mumbles, and then he sighs a bit at the frown on Jeremy’s face.

Oh, damn it all to hell.

* * *

Charlie’s been in such a great mood today. Tasty food, nice people, even nicer presents. A lovely boyfriend by her side who talked a colleague into taking over his shift so he could be free.

And now this…this whatever the hell this is. A pissing contest? Will these two get the rulers for dick-measuring out next?

She feels a bit like a spectator sitting in on a tennis match for the first time. Head turning left and right, clueless about what’s really going on and who’s landing a hit.

She’s also got the urge to take a tennis racket to Tom’s crown jewels. If it weren’t for Evie…

And now Jeremy is frowning. Great, just great.

Just when she thinks she’ll have smoke coming out of her ears any moment, Tom straightens a bit and slips a smile on his face. It’s one she’s seen him give the press for years, and it doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s at least better than badly disguised sneers and pointed throat-clearing.

“I really appreciate it, Jeremy, thanks,” Tom says, sounding surprisingly genuine. “But to be honest, I’m happy just being plain, old Tom right now. A…friend of Charlie’s. Not the actor who plays Loki. Is that alright with you?”

Oh. Charlie raises a brow. That was actually quite nice. Even calling Jeremy by his name, being all polite. And he wants to be her friend.

So, she doesn’t have to hit him right now? Good.

“Of course. That’s totally fine. Sorry, I’m getting a little starstruck. But you’re such a great friend for Charlie, and she really loves Evie,” Jeremy answers and then chuckles, a little awkwardly. “Long story short, that’s absolutely alright with me.”

In that moment, Evie lets go of Charlie and shows what great manners she has – if she wants to that is – introducing herself to Charlie’s guests, shaking hands.

They all look absolutely smitten. A few of her colleagues are there, and now Evie’s reached Charlie’s parents who look like they’d like to adopt her right then and there.

And of course, Evie already knows her auntie Emma and her husband standing right next to them.

Charlie’s been a bit afraid of what they’d say to Jeremy – meeting him for the first time – but of course they love him. Everyone does. Except Tom maybe.

Speaking of Tom, he’s still next to Jeremy, watching his daughter work the room. And then Jeremy leans in a bit, pointing at Charlie’s parents, and she can see Tom’s eyes go wide and his face a little pale.

He should’ve known they’d be there.

Tom sways a bit before getting a grip on himself. Meeting Charlie’s parents wasn’t on his agenda any time soon, but he probably should. It’s not like he’s her boyfriend and needs to worry about what they might think of him.

But he does. Worry, that is.

Unlike Jeremy, who’s probably won their approval in 2 seconds flat.

And unlike his blessed whirlwind of a daughter who’s currently hanging onto Charlie’s mother’s hand and scanning the room.

He’ll have one or two seconds to compose himself and–yup, there it is. Evie has spotted him still in the same place and is now pointing emphatically. Which makes the woman raise her brows.

Great. Just great.

Oh shit. Charlie sees the entire exchange like a bit of a car crash. Sees Evie pointing, Tom paling some more and then plastering a bright smile on his face.

Why is Charlie suddenly more nervous than when Jeremy’s met her parents earlier? This shouldn’t be more important.

When Evie tugs on her mother’s hand and they start moving, Charlie does as well, meeting them before they can reach Tom and Jeremy.

“Mum,” she starts, trying not to shout. “Hey, you want some tea?”

Her mother looks at her like she’s a little crazy, Jeremy does as well – she can see that from the corners of her eyes – and Evie says, “No, we want to meet Daddy.”

Oh.

She hears how Tom clears his throat – again – and then feels his presence behind her.

“Hello, Mrs. Cromwell. I’m Tom. Hiddleston, that is. So nice to meet you,” he says, stepping next to Charlie and holding out a hand. Then he smiles down at Evie. “I see you’ve already met my daughter.”

“I have,” her mother answers, then shakes his hand briefly before they both let go.

And then they wait.

Well. What are they waiting for? Surely not for her to say something?

Oh. Maybe for an explanation who Tom is and why he’s invited? Her mother knows, but does Tom know that she knows? Yikes.

Tom is still pale and looks a few years younger and so abashed she thinks he’ll shuffle his big feet any time now. Her parents look…mildly intrigued.

Charlie resists the urge to half-shout her invitation to tea again just to get things going. It’s like she’s the director and her actors have frozen in a scene after she’s yelled cut.

Or maybe Evie is the director because the little girl takes over the reins–if she’s ever really handed them over, that is.

She turns back to Charlie’s mom and says, “You have to tell Doctor Charlie to open her birfday gift now. Daddy was so happy when he finded it.”

Of course! Her gift! It’s even still in her hands. How great. That’s a great idea, she doesn’t even need her mother to tell her. She does anyway, probably to make Evie happy.

“Charlotte, dear, you should really open your birthday gift now. Look how excited they both are.”

Charlie does look at them both. And indeed, Evie is beaming, and there seems to be a blush on Tom’s cheeks.

“Well, I think it fits and it’s practical. It’s nothing big really. Just a little… something. And you said you’d need that actually. And it’s unique. Maybe.” Goodness. He’s babbling on and on and Charlie can’t decide if she should stare at him or laugh.

Now he’s really blushing and it seems like Jeremy, her mum and Evie decided to go for staring.

“Okay,” Charlie says slowly. “I guess, I’ll open it then.”

So, she stands there, opening her gift. And then laughs. Tom’s right. It’s not much. But he’s listened. Because she does need copious amounts of coffee almost every time she’s at work. And she’s complained how she doesn’t have her own mug. Or her own thermos flask, because she’s constantly forgetting to buy one. And now she’s got both, reading "Do not confuse your Google search with my medical degree".

It’s not the most romantic thing. But it shouldn’t be. And again, he listened.

“It’s really nothing much,” Tom mumbles, but Charlie can’t help but smile at him.

“It’s great, Tom. I love it. And now I can actually get through the day without having to find a new mug every half an hour.”

They look at each other, grinning like idiots.

* * *

Yay!

Tom resists the urge to punch the air or whoop–while his daughter does just that, then dances around them in a circle, giddily chanting “Charlie loves her gi-hift, Charlie loves her gi-hift”.

She does look like she loves it, shiny-eyed and grinning the way he is probably grinning too.

And that stupid Jeremy is just looking from her to him and back with a bland smile on his stupid handsome face.

Charlie’s mother seems to have warmed a little to Tom, too. Not that he wants that. Well, he does. But he doesn’t need it, right? He’s just Charlie’s friend.

Like a little devil sitting on his shoulder, Evie stops her victory dance long enough to ask the doctor, “What did Doctor Jeremy get you?”

Probably some fancy jewellery, right? Something expensive but meaningless, because they don’t know each other that well.

But shit.

Tom sees another smile forming on Charlie’s face. This one’s not a beaming grin but more of a genuine, pleased one. And Mrs. Cromwell looks all fond of hat gift as well.

Damn it all.

“He’s given me – and him – an entire day off from work.”

While Evie answers with a scrunched up nose and a, “Huh?” Tom already has an idea what that means.

“We’re always so busy, we never spend a day together because we’re working a lot,” Jeremy chimes in. Eager to explain, it seems. Well, Evie’s asked Charlie, so he can shut up.

Tom tries to smother the grimace.

“Yes,” Charlie continues. “And he switched our schedules, will invite me to brunch, we’ll go to museums and then the theatre and dinner in the evening. It’s a nice idea, actually.”

Well, damn. It is.

“Is it?” Evie asks in that moment, turning to Tom. “Why didn’t we give her a day with us, Daddy?”

Yeah, why didn’t he?

Tom opens his mouth, closes it with a snap, and barely remembers he should probably not clear his throat for the hundredth time this evening.

Oh, Evie, way to rub it in…

He sees Charlie grimace and wonders just what is going on in her mind at the moment. Her mother is looking a little unsure and distant again, great.

Inhaling deeply, Tom takes the plunge.

“Munchkin, I’d gladly have given Charlie that gift but I think it makes her happier to have received it from Doctor Jeremy. She’s…supposed to spend more time with him now than with us. I guess.”

What’s that odd little hitch in his breathing and ache in his chest?

Maybe it’s because his daughter’s face looks utterly crestfallen now. She turns huge eyes on Charlie, then him.

“But…why? Does Charlie love Jeremy more than me and you?”

Whelp. Yeah, does she?

Silently, Tom glances at the woman in question, ignoring stupid Jeremy’s slight frown.

“I think your father wanted to talk to our neighbour David about… something… or the other. We should go… Yes, it’s best if we’re going. So nice to meet you all.”

Charlie hears her mother’s voice like she’s swimming a few feet under water. She’s not even sure what her mother’s said, barely feels the hand that’s touching her arm softly and then her mother’s not there anymore.

Now, she’s got Tom, Evie and Jeremy staring at her silently, while suddenly it’s hot and cold at the same time and Charlie’s doing her best not to die right then and there.

Love.

Evie’s asking about love.

And she shouldn’t do that. Not just because she and Jeremy are nowhere near that – and that’s okay, it’s mutual – but also because the only one loving someone here is probably Evie. Well.

So, Charlie is the one clearing her throat now. “It’s simply different, Evie. I do love you very much, and I love to spend my time with you, okay? And it’s a great gift. And I’d have been happy to receive it from anyone.”

Yikes. Now, Jeremy’s eyes are flickering with something and Charlie silently pleads with him to not be mad.

Tom is giving her a long look she can’t read and then she can almost hear something shift in his brain–a brain she sometimes admires and sometimes can’t figure out for the life of her.

He doesn’t have a bloody right to barge in here, demanding love. Or more time with her. Or whatever he is passive-agressively demanding. Then again, maybe she’s over-interpreting things? It was mostly Evie’s doing anyway?

Tom gives an almost impercetible nod, though she has no clue what it’s supposed to mean. He takes Evie’s hand.

“There you go, munchkin. Now what do you say, shall we go find you some lemonade? Or better yet, birthday cake?”

“Caaaaaaaaaaaake.” Forgotten is all the serious talk as soon as his daughter hears the magic word. She lets herself be dragged to the general vicinity of the kitchen where a table is loaded with goodies.

Good. Now Charlie can probably breathe easier again.

Except Jeremy is still frowning a little, looking after the retreating pair.

“You know,” he starts – all calm and collected which in turn makes Charlie a little nervous – before looking at her. “I thought I was pretty clever with my gift. Getting us to spend time together and all.”

Charlie tries not to stutter. This is so not what she meant. “I know. I know, really. It’s a nice present, I’m happy.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy answers. “I’ve got the feeling you’d rather have gotten the present from Tom? Evie, I mean.”

Oh shit. She’s said the wrong things, hasn’t she? “You’re my boyfriend. I love that we get to spend the day together. I love that you’re here now. Really.”

Charlie tries to keep her voice calm, and she thinks she’s mostly succeeding.

Jeremy looks at her, the frown in place again, eyes finding Tom and Evie now and then, who now come out of the kitchen with big pieces of cake. Not that Charlie is looking for them.

“That’s good to know,” Jeremy says. And then he looks at her until Charlie starts squirming under his gaze. “I really don’t think I could compete with Loki, you know?”

Charlie swallows. “You don’t have to.” And she really means it. Not just because ‘Loki’ obviously doesn’t want to compete at all. Or maybe he does. Or maybe he just doesn’t know what he wants.

Charlie just knows that now she can hear Evie babbling away excitedly with her auntie Emma. And that Charlie shouldn’t look at them but at her boyfriend.

“Thank you for being here today,” she mumbles as she goes closer to him until they almost touch. At least he doesn’t retreat. “I appreciate it.”

* * *

They’re going to kiss, aren’t they?

Tom swallows, standing across the room with a half-drunk glass of fizzy lemonade in his hand.

Maybe he shouldn’t have let Evie talk him into lemonade. He kind of needs something stronger now, and the bubbles are working their way up his throat.

He swallows again.

Charlie and stupid Jeremy step even closer, and now her hand is on his chest.

No, he doesn’t need to see this. No reason to.

He’ll just put his lemonade glass down on the table and…yeah, and flee. Maybe check out the bookshelf in the living-room that has fascinated him on previous visits.

Yes. Excellent idea.

Tom sets the glass down just as Charlie tilts her head towards Jeremy’s–and is so distracted that the glass misses the table. It’s balanced on the edge for a second and then it crashes to the floor and startles everyone, him the most.

He’s used to people looking and staring at him. He really is. This is simply the absolute wrong situation for them to be staring.

“So sorry,” he immediately apologises. And then stares at the glass and the sticky lemonade on the floor, not knowing what to do.

Or simply ignoring the other people.

“Are you okay, Daddy?”

“Yes, munchkin. The table’s just smaller than I thought.”

“Okay.”

As Tom crouches down, Emma’s suddenly next to him, a bunch of napkins in her hands. “Are you really okay, big brother?”

“I said I’m fine,” he mumbles. Still trying to ignore the stares.

“Yes, you said that. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

He hates his sister sometimes.

* * *

Charlie doesn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or punch someone, preferably the wanker who broke the magic moment and currently looks like he wants to shrink to the size of an ant and drown in the sticky liquid he’s spilled.

“Oh dear.” That’s Jeremy’s rather tame comment as he takes an automatic step back.

More like ‘oh fuck’ ever since Thomas William Hiddleston walked in, Charlie thinks to herself, but she tries to pull herself together.

It’s her birthday, dammit. This is supposed to be fun. Should be even more fun if a friend of hers has joined. Only, Tom isn’t on his best ‘friend’ behaviour, and it rankles her to no end.

She watches his sister Emma help him, and narrows her eyes at the two of them muttering. She wishes she could hear them because Tom looks embarrassed and pissed off in the wonderful way only brothers can when confronted by their sisters.

He keeps shaking his head and muttering some more, his face going through about nine different emotions in a minute.

Then he snaps something, flinches, and grabs the dustpan someone is extending helpfully. Sweeping the glass pieces into it, he all but flees into the kitchen.

Which is when Jeremy touches her elbow and says, “I’ll just go make sure Loki…pardon, Tom, is okay.”

And–oh no, oh no, oh no–walks after Tom.

* * *

For fuck’s sake.

Tom’s gotten rid of the glass and holds his hand under the tab water. It’s not a large cut, he doesn’t even need a plaster probably.

But it stings. Not his finger actually, but his chest. And he knows he’s bright red from embarrassment and from Emma asking all the wrong questions and saying all the wrong things.

_‘Charlie and Jeremy seem to be a nice couple.’ ‘Are you sure you’re her friend?’ ‘I’m not sure it’s just Evie who wants to spend the day with her.’_ And – worst of all –  _‘I don’t think Emily would want you to run away from another woman in your life.’_

That was when he broke that glass.

His stupid sister doesn’t know shit.

“You’re alright there?” a familiar voice asks in that moment, and Tom does everything within his power to not flinch or snap.

“Jeremy,” he starts and then turns slightly. “Everything’s fine, thank you.”

“She likes your present, you know? If you were wondering.”

Huh? Where does that come from?

“She does?”

Wow, he sounds mighty intelligent today…not.

Tom wishes the cut was deeper. Partly because physical pain is a good distraction from less definable pain. Partly because then Charlie would have to come nurse his wound, and he’s starved for her attention.

Jesus.

The realization what he’s just thought hits home, and Tom has to grip the kitchen counter with his good hand. When did he become so hungry for her attention? When did he allow another woman to become so important?

He shouldn’t depend on this, on her.

Belatedly, he notices that stupid Jeremy is still talking.

“…means you listened to her. Charlie’s always the one listening, so I bet she appreciates it that someone else is there to listen to her.”

Huh.  _That_ sounds intelligent. Could’ve come from him. Should’ve.

“Of course I listen to Charlie. I care.”

There, that’s better. Or is it?

Stupid Jeremy is making a stupid understanding face and Tom is back to wishing his hand was making him bleed to death.

“Oh, I know,” he nods. Again with that stupid understanding face. “I notice. I mean, everyone notices probably.”

Well, now. What’s that supposed to mean? Tom opens his mouth to respond something witty. Just, he can’t think of anything else than closing the tab, drying his finger and staring ahead.

“You know, you’re a great friend, Tom,” Jeremy the Stupid says next.

He knows. Tom doesn’t need Charlie’s boyfriend to tell him. Especially not Charlie’s boyfriend. “She’s been a little down lately because you haven’t been here that much. I hope it doesn’t have to do with me. I’ll try to turn down the fanboy a notch.”

Shit. She’s been down? Tom’s been trying but obviously this “friend”-thing is a little more complicated.

“I appreciate it,” is all Tom can mutter.

* * *

Charlie is standing a few feet away, completely unnoticed by two of the dearest men in her life–and completely unsure what she’s feeling.

Part of her is annoyed with Jeremy. It’s not his damn right to give Tom nudges, even less so because Tom’s the one who clearly doesn’t want to be nudged. Or does he?

A different part of her wants to smile because Jeremy really is a good guy.

Then there’s another part that’s angry with Tom for setting all this into motion, consciously or not.

And yet another part is furious with herself. For apparently letting the man she’s dating see she ‘feels low’ about a man who flat-out refused to date her but is now stirring up jealous bullshit.

Why the heck can’t a girl enjoy her birthday without complications?

Turning on her heel, probably with smoke coming out her ears, Charlie mumbles something about “stupid Mr. Double First from Camebridge and his stupid blindness”, going in search of Evie and cake.

She finds her – with the cake – not even a minute later. Evie’s standing a little to the side with Emma, who’s eyeing Charlie quite sceptically now.

“Did you look for my brother?” she asks as Charlie approaches.

“No. Jeremy’s talking to him.”

To Emma’s raised brows, she simply shrugs, choosing to grab a piece of cake and eating it without a fork, straight from the plate.

She’s frustrated, sue her.

Evie stares at her, wide-eyed, now looking at the piece of cake on her own plate.

“Jeremy’s talking to Tom? You sure that’s a good thing?”

“They’re grown-ups,” Charlie shrugs, doing anything but inside. “I won’t tell them what to do.”

Evie, now with her cake in her hand, looks from Emma to Charlie and back. “Don’t they like each other?”

A piece of cake almost gets stuck in Charlie’s throat.

Whelp. Even Evie isn’t giving her a breather today.

She chews with extra care, noticing with slight panic that the little girl is mimicking her and has abandoned her fork to hold her cake in her hand, icing wobbling precariously while her aunt is too focused on Charlie to notice and scold.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she answers carefully once she’s swallowed. “They’re…still getting to know each other.”

Evie frowns, eats a large bite of cake and then shoots her next question. “But Doctor Jeremy is your friend, and Daddy is also your friend. They MUST like each other.”

Must they? Charlie grimaces and holds back about a dozen comments that it’s Evie’s Daddy who’s not willing to like Jeremy, not the other way round.

Suddenly, Evie presses her plate with half-eaten cake into Emma’s hands, waves a short bye with her icing-sticky hand and turns to march away.

“Evie Hiddleston, where are you going?” Emma shouts after her.

“Helping Daddy and Doctor Jeremy become friends.”

* * *

Someone kill him, please. Fast, if possible. Or maybe not kill him, but shove him hard. A heavy concussion would come in handy right now. Tom would even spend a night in the hospital.

Just anything to make Jeremy shut up.

It’s not even the doctor’s fault really.

Well, Tom grimaces, it is. But said doctor doesn’t know probably. Though, he seems to be so very attentive in all the other aspects.

Tom isn’t even listening anymore, just nodding here and there, willing his finger to start bleeding again.

And then there’s a commotion at the kitchen door, and Tom is happy for anything that stops Jeremy from talking. And he does indeed stop and stares.

And Tom stares as well.

There’s his lovely daughter – seriously, what has she done now? – standing in the doorway, a cake smeared hand raised in a wave. Behind her Charlie and Emma stop, eyes wide and Charlie with what seems like cake around her mouth as well. What the heck?

“Doctor Jeremy, you like cats. Daddy like cats too. And you like Charlie. You be friends now. Shoo.”

Well, hell. That concussion is looking more tempting by the second.

In fact, his head is already hurting, come to think of it.

Tom hopes his acting skills will hold up today because otherwise he’s probably looking like a man about to have a few teeth pulled out instead of a guest at a birthday party.

Before the stupidly perfect, stid doctor can get a word in, he squats and gently holds Evie’s flailing wrist so she won’t get icing all over herself and him and everyone else in the wake of the Evie-sized tornado.

“Munchkin, two people can like the same thing and still not bond over it. Happens all the time. Remember when Tony at kindergarten really loved that purple teddy bear? And you loved it too and he woudn’t let you have it? Did that make you friends with Tony?”

Pouting, Evie tosses her head. “No. Tony is stupid.”

Resisting the urge to make a “Jeremy is stupid too” comment, Tom barely suppresses a smirk.

“See? But you didn’t punch him and you let him keep that purple teddy, didn’t you, Evie?”

She nods, still looking miffed.

Okay, so maybe he’s done this right before it goes further south.

The next moment, Evie frowns and asks, “So is Charlie a purple teddy bear? And is Doctor Jeremy not letting you have her?”

Well, fuck.

* * *

Well, fuck.

Charlie feels all of her blood rush south. She can feel herself going pale and her head is spinning – not from a sugar rush.

She ignores Emma’s quiet gasp and also Jeremy’s sharp eyes on her, and how he looks like he’s swallowing a handful of nails. Okay, maybe she’s not fully ignoring it.

Instead, she’s next to Tom now, lowering herself a bit. It’s time for an important life lesson now, as it seems.

“Evie, love, a person is nothing you should argue about having or not having. Nobody ‘has’ me, I’m not a purple teddy bear, and Jeremy’s not like Tony, dancing around and holding me up so your daddy can’t reach me,” she says, shooting Tom a long glance that seems to make him squirm. Good. “It doesn’t work this way with people, okay?”

Evie nods understandingly. “Okay. And Tony played with the teddy because I didn’t want to for a moment. That was a little stupid.”

Oh goodness. She’s on a roll today, isn’t she? “Well, sometimes you let things go and then you can’t get mad if someone else takes them,” is all Charlie says, before she stands up again. “And it’s okay for two people not to be friends, if they don’t want to, okay?”

Sometimes, reality is weirder than literature. Weirder than films.

Tom blinks, looking from Charlie to Evie and even sparing stupid–currently less than amused–Jeremy and frowning Emma a glance.

It takes him a few moments to process what Charlie is saying and extract the hidden meaning, and it just makes him all the more emotional.

So he does what he’s learned to do during extremely emotional times in the past few months. He picks one banal thing to focus on and shuts everything else out.

“See, no need to worry or force friendships, Little Miss Hiddleston,” he says to his daughter, hoping to God he sounds less fake nonchalant to the others’ ears than to his own.

“And now let’s get that icing off your hand before we have a minor disaster on our hands. I’m sure Charlie isn’t going to let you have a look at her other gifts if your hands are cake-sticky and icky.”

Evie giggles at his wording, repeating “icky” under her breath and abandoning her more serious thoughts. He scoops her up with one arm, holding her away from his suit and carrying her to the sink to thoroughly rinse off her hand.

He ignores everything and everyone else steadfastly until he’s turned around with the little girl still tucked under his arm and now clean.

Still ignoring the could-be-cut-with-a-knife atmosphere, he starts to walk out of the kitchen.

Passing Charlie by, he leans really close, watching her eyes widen. In a not so silent whisper, he says, “And by the way, big girls need to use cake forks as well. You have a smudge of icing on your lower lip.”

Licking his own lip for emphasis and watching her eyes widen even more, he walks out into the living room.

Well, that doesn’t help with feeling light headed at all. And she’s also far from paling. Instead, Charlie feels herself blushing furiously.

Is it hot in here? It’s hot, right? Probably because of all the people standing around in her living-room. Yeah.

She hears the blood in her ears so loudly she barely registers Emma’s exasperated huff and her muttering of “stupid arse”, before she turns and walks after her brother and niece.

“Do you want me to go tonight? Do you want to talk things out? Or something?” Jeremy’s voice takes her out of her thoughts. Huh?

She looks at his beautiful face, that now holds a frown – again. “Why would I? No, no, don’t go. Wht would you ask something like that?”

“Charlie,” he sighs. “Why wouldn’t I ask? There’s clearly something you two need to discuss. Isn’t there?”

She hates him (Tom, not Jeremy). Charlie simply wanted to have a nice birthday party, and now her boyfriend feels the need to leave her for the night so she can talk things over with Tom? No. No way.

“No. Everything that’s ever needed to be said is said.”

“What was there to be said?” he asks, and Charlie feels the world tilt for a moment.

* * *

Tom sets Evie down and lets her run towards the table with gifts where their mug and thermos flask are now displayed too.

“Keep your hands to yourself even though they’re clean now, Evie,” he remembers to warn her, and she guiltily pulls back an already outstretched arm. Shiny-eyed with curiosity, she inspects the presents, sighing a bit over all the books.

Tom is interrupted while reading the titles when Emma sidles up to him and hisses, “You’re the world’s shittiest friend, Thomas William Hiddleston.”

Uh-oh, full name.

“What do you even want to achieve? Have Charlie’s boyfriend break up with her on her bloody birthday?” his sister asks.

Tom flinches. “I don’t  _know_ what the ever-loving hell I want,” he hisses back, hoping that his daughter is too absorbed in the giifts to overhear them.

“Well,” his sister stares him down, “you better figure it out then,” she hisses – again.

“Stop hissing at me,” Tom whispers harshly. He doesn’t want to start trouble, really, at least not on Charlie’s birthday. And with guests overhearing.

“I won’t,” Emma continues. “Because I like Charlie, and Evie adores her. Don’t you dare fuck this up.”

They stare at each other silently until Emma seems to realise he won’t say anything more and turns around, explaining the gifts to Evie.

That goes on for a minute or two, before Tom sees a movement in the kitchen door. Jeremy comes out, Charlie hot on his heels. They don’t really look like the happy couple anymore, and walk out in the hallway – slowly, but surely.

Not a minute later, Charlie comes back in, seemingly searching for someone. Uh-oh.

Tom’s and Charlie’s eyes meet, her gaze steely. “You,” she mouths, but Tom can hear her clearly. The finger pointing doesn’t help his situation. “Kitchen,” Charlie continues, before storming off in said direction.

He swallows, looks at Emma and Evie to see if they’re occupied enough – his sister of course isn’t – and then follows Charlie.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Tom has barely entered after Charlie when she whirls around and pushes the kitchen door shut.

Oh god.

Taking a few quick steps away from him, she jabs a finger in his direction and he feels the full force of “don’t fuck with me” Doctor Charlie dealing with troublesome patients (or nurses).

A lesser man would probably have droped to the floor dead, and to be honest, he feels a bit like a lesser man too right now. And he hates it. Hates having made her angry or hurt. And himself too.

“You, Mr. Hiddleston, need to grow the fuck up.”

He opens his mouth and snaps it shut again at her glare. Shit, this is serious. And probably really his fault.

“Sometimes I think your daughter has more maturity than you do.”

Something inside him snaps.

“Oh yeah? Maybe that’s becuase I didn’t ask for this whole bloody adulting thing. It’s all overrated. Being a mature adult. Face this, do that, dance to life’s whistle and never fuck up. And guess what–life screws you over anyway. Doesn’t help a bit to be mature and oh so in control.”

Yikes. Where did that come from?

Now it’s Charlie’s turn to gasp as well as open and close her mouth like a fish. She knows he’s had it hard, and she’s neither downplaying that nor will she not acknowledge how well he deals with this – normally.

But damn him, he’s not the only one who’s ever had to toughen up.

“Okay, Mr Hollywood big shot. You better listen to me. I know what you’ve been through. I know that being an adult sucks. I’m one myself. You’re not the only famous person. You’re not the only person that’s ever lost a loved one.

“I work in a hospital, if you didn’t notice. I’ve seen it fucking all. And I’ve been tired constantly since I started university. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve had more than two days off in a row, you stupid arse.

“And today’s one of those times. I was having a great day – thank you for asking by the way. And now it’s ruined by my so called friend.

"We’ve all had bad times, that’s called life, Tom. That doesn’t give the rest of us an excuse to act like a stupid idiot. My boyfriend left my birthday party because he’s felt so uncomfortable. At this point I’m happy he is still my boyfriend. Don’t let it out on others just because you can’t decide what you want or don’t want.

"You didn’t want me, Tom. Now man up and be an adult about it. I’m not always there to excuse your shitty behaviour.”

She’s panting hard, and Tom stares at her, blinking.

Now what? Is this some kind of end to their friendship?

That’s a lot to take in, and he’s still grappling with his own emotional outburst.

Tom reacts on instinct again, taking a step closer and grabbing Charlie’s arm.

“So I’m a shitty friend or person because for once I can’t handle a situation that fucks up my brain and heart? What does it say about you and your qualities as a friend if you invite me here all cheerfully and then get annoyed the first time I seem like I can’t handle it? Aren’t friends supposed to be more understanding? Yes, I might not have been on my best behaviour today. But god forbid you tolerate that like I’m tolerating a million things I’m not bloody happy with.”

She flinches, and he doesn’t know whether it’s from his grasp on her arm–his fingers long enough to wrap completely around it–or his words.

And where are those words even coming from?

He leans in, seeing Charlie’s lips part and eyes darken.

“I came here this evening against my better judgment,” he says in a lower, slightly more controlled tone. “Because I knew it would make Evie happy. And you.”

He swallows at the same time as Charlie drags a shuddering breath in. “I tried, Charlie.”

He lets that sink in before releasing her arm and stepping back.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have tried. Or tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He turns on his heel and opens the door to leave.

"What are you tolerating?” Charlie asks before Tom can leave.

She wonders how she can even talk at all after all that they’ve thrown at each other just now.

He turns. “What?”

“That’s what I’ve asked. What are those million things you’re tolerating? About me, I assume? That to some people I’m more than just the good Samaritan that helps out? That I’m happy there’s someone who wants to date me? Just me? You did treat me like a purple teddy and then suddenly became a spoilt child, Tom.”

A little step closer to her. “What… I…”

“You threw me on the floor and when someone else picked me up, you got jealous. And I’m sorry that I wanted to stay friends. If I’m such a shitty friend and you’re as well… maybe we shouldn’t be friends at all.”

Now it’s Charlie who turns. Mostly because her eyes sting and she needs a moment to not let Tom see.

So she picks up a glass and fills it with water from the tap. And hears Tom breathing behind her. 

Well, hell.

It’s all he can do to breathe right now. And ache. And breathe.

Yeah, perhaps he shouldn’t have come here today. But regrets are something he’s once vowed to himself he’ll never have. He’s very close to breaking that vow, though.

In. Out. Breathe, Hidleston.

He can see Charlie shake and water slosh around in the glass. Just like a hundred emotios are sloshing around inside him, threatening to spill.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, so quietly he’s not sure she can hear him. If she even wants to hear what he’s saying…

He reaches a hand towards her but rethinks that and lets it drop to his side. Yet again, he turns to leave–then pauses in the doorway.

“If you think we shouldn’t be friends, I should probably respect that decision. But, Charlie…”

She’s not turning around but standing stock still.

“Can you leave Evie out of this?” his voice is breaking a bit, just great. He clears his throat. “Can you still be  _her_ friend? I’ll try to take myself out of the equation if you want to meet her, once in a while. She…she loves you.”

Fuck, his eyes are burning.

Tom waits, even forgetting to breathe.

“Yes, Tom. I’ll still be Evie’s friend,” comes Charlie’s soft, trembling reply.

She’s turning around now, but somehow he’s sure he can’t handle a second longer like this. So he mumbles a strangled “thank you” and leaves before she faces him.


	3. There She Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down at the bottom
> 
> I found the things I’d forgotten
> 
> Then despite all I’ve done, I can learn, I can learn in this time
> 
> Gonna hold onto that
> 
> I’m gonna forgive myself
> 
> And then ask for forgiveness
> 
> Crossing my fingers and toes
> 
> ‘Cause God only knows I need this
> 
> Lord how I need this
> 
> There she is
> 
> Isn’t she everything?
> 
> There she is
> 
> Isn’t she everything?
> 
> Isn’t she everything I need?
> 
> I needed someone who believed me
> 
> I needed someone who wouldn’t leave me
> 
> I needed her
> 
> Everything I need, I need is someone who believed me
> 
> I needed someone who wouldn’t leave me
> 
> I needed her
> 
> (From There She is, by Frank Turner)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in January of 2018, which is exactly one year after the events of part 1 of this series. We're sorry.

 

“So, you’ve spent New Year’s all alone then?” Mary regards Charlie with a look that could almost count as disgust. The nurse has the first two weeks of January off, and just now has the chance to confront “the lonely doctor”. Plus, it’s the night shift, and nothing exciting is happening. Which is good, probably.

Charlie rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t all alone. I was with my brother and his family. It was lovely.”

“You need to go out more. After Jeremy.”

Charlie sighs. ‘After Jeremy’ has been 4 weeks ago. It was a mutual decision. No broken hearts, just disappointment that it didn’t turn out to be more. Charlie doesn’t ponder on the reasons why. Those hurt.

“It’s been 4 weeks, Mary. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but being dumped on one’s birthday…”

“Two days after,” Charlie interrupts. “Way to make me feel good. And he didn’t dump me, we talked it out.”

“Sure.”

With a grin, Mary goes god knows where, Charlie doesn’t care. She’s got enough on her mind without her friend reminding her of Jeremy.

For example how her and Tom really managed to avoid each other and she still met Evie five times. Not as often as before, but Charlie doesn’t think the little girl realised anything. Not yet, at least.

 

She thinks back on the last time they met. Charlie sent Tom an SMS. Yes, they’re down to SMS if they have no way of avoiding some form of communication.

So she texted him, asking whether she could take Evie for a walk in the park as it was all so beautifully covered in snow that for once had stuck and turned things into a bit of a winter wonderland.

He’d sent back a time, and she’d turned up at said time, Evie bouncing in at least three layers of clothes with the cutest little bunny-eared woolen hat on.

When Charlie had asked Evie whether her father wasn’t joining them (yeah, very likely), the little girl had stopped bouncing for a moment.

“Daddy said he’s suddenly got belly cramps.” She pouted. “He looked really sad too so I told him he can use my cookie monster hot-water bottle if he wants.”

Torn between going “aaawww” at Evie and flinching because she could indeed imagine Tom looking sad (not due to sudden ‘belly cramps’), Charlie settled for praising her and then taking Evie’s hand to embark on their walk in the snow.

They had a really nice time–until it was time to bring Evie home and the little girl asked whether Charlie could have a look at her father “because you’re a doctor after all and I want his belly to stop hurting”.

Feeling her own stomach–or was it her heart?–begin to ache, Charlie faked being in a hurry to return to the hospital and avoided confronting Tom.

With a sigh, she decides she needs less morose thoughts and more coffee, and shuffles into the staff kitchen.

Which should be a good idea, but isn’t. Because Charlie didn’t have the heart to get rid of the coffee mug Tom and Evie gave her for her birthday, it now sits on the counter, waiting to be used.

Charlie thinks for a moment, then grabs the mug, puts it into the cabinet and takes out a mug from the hospital.

There. Better. Surely. Some time.

Charlie sighs. Actually, some action would be better tonight. She specifically asked to work tonight to avoid unpleasant thoughts running through her head.

She knows what date today is. Of course she does. They’ve talked about it more than once.

As she pours her coffee, she glances at the clock. Almost 3 a.m., just three more hours to go.

With a sigh, she takes her – well, not  _her_  – cup and sits at the table for a moment. Everything will be fine. Everything will be good again.

* * *

Everything hurts and Tom just doesn’t want to anymore. Doesn’t want to lie, toss and turn and sit here in the dark anymore. Doesn’t want to pull himself through. Doesn’t want to breathe.

But he does. Somehow. Because Evie should not lose her father a year after she lost her mother.

It’s 3 in the morning, on a winter day like a year ago when he lost the most important person in his life.

He can’t believe it’s been twelve months. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Sometimes it feels like it’s been twelve years of floundering and suffering, and missing her terribly.

Why was Emily taken from him like that? What did he ever do to deserve it? What did his daughter do, dammit?

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Tom sits up in bed. He made himself go to bed at 11 p.m. last night, but he hasn’t slept a minute since. In fact, he hasn’t slept much the past few nights either. How’s he supposed to?

He gets up, shuffling like a zombie. Across the corridor to silently push Evie’s room door open a bit more and look at her sleeping form swaddled in blankets. To reassure himself that at least life hasn’t robbed him of his daughter yet. To reassure himself that there’s someone worth staying alive for.

He doesn’t know what to do tonight. If it wasn’t for Evie he’d choose the option “drink yourself into a stupor”. Hell, if it wasn’t for Evie, he would have done that for the last twelve months.

But Evie’s there. And as hard it is to think of it, she’s not the only reason he hasn’t done anything too dramatic this past year.

But the second person isn’t here anymore either. He doesn’t even care who’s been a bad friend and who’s done what now. It hurts.

Not as much as everything else hurts tonight, but it doesn’t feel good.

Tom’s still standing at the door, looking at Evie’s sleeping form. It would be terrible of him to wake her up to simply have someone to talk to.

Instead, he goes to the kitchen, wondering if maybe one whiskey would help him? But then he sighs. Of course it wouldn’t. So, he gets himself a glass of water and sits down at the table.

His mobile’s still on the table, he didn’t want to be disturbed by anything so he’s left it here.

That didn’t help.

Maybe he should’ve listened to Emma and his mother. They suggested doing something special. Having a memorable service at church. Doing something Emily loved. Just getting together, inviting Em’s family and friends too.

But Tom shook his head so vehemently that they dropped the subject, giving him looks of such immense pity that it only made him feel worse.

He wants to do this alone today. Face the demons. Remember her. He just can’t deal with other grieving people, he’ll break.

The only problem is that now it seems like the worst idea ever. He wants to be alone. But he doesn’t.

The day hasn’t even really started and he’s a mess. How’s he going to survive the coming 20-odd hours?

He’ll go to Em’s grave with Evie, of course.

The thought makes him grit his teeth against a wave of nausea and anxiety. Will the media be there?

Anger replaces hurt for a moment when he recalls what happened two days ago. He’d taken a walk to the florist, ordered special flowers for the grave. Left the store crying quietly–and promptly landed his tear-streaked face on a tabloid page because a pap had caught him and made some quick bucks with his ‘Reclusive moviestar Tom Hiddleston has breakdown close to late wife’s first death anniversary’ story.

Fuck that bastard.

Fuck life.

* * *

Charlie still sits at the table. It’s been 15 minutes and she doesn’t really now what else she’s been doing besides staring into space.

Thinking. She’s been thinking. Her mother sent her the picture of a newspaper right before Charlie’s shift started. Asking, if Tom was alright.

Of course he isn’t. Charlie just hopes he won’t drink himself to death.

She sighs, finishing her coffee. Just when she wants to get up, her phone in the pocket of her white coat starts ringing. It’s just after 3 am, what the heck?

What. The. Fuck is thr better term. It’s Tom’s name that’s flashing on the display. Oh god, oh god.

Like on autopilot Charlie answers.

“Tom? Are you alright? Tom?”

On the end of the line it’s just breathing, so Charlie asks again. “Tom?”

Thank god for the tiniest of mercies.

Tom runs a shaky hand back through his hair, the other one clutching the phone so tightly that it’s going to leave indents.

During the past few minutes, he had his finger hovering over the call button three times before he gave himself a push and dialed Charlie. The one person who might be able to keep him sane today. Well, maybe not sane but alive. If she takes the call.

Which she has, and now he doesn’t know what the fuck to say. How do you talk about these things?  _It’s my wife’s first death anniversary and if it weren’t for my daughter, I’d be contemplating suicide?_  No. Maybe he should say,  _I told everyone I want to be left alone but now the loneliness is killing me_? Or just whisper “help” brokenly into the phone?

Dammit, he’s a mess.

“Tom? For fuck’s sake, say something, you’re scaring me right now.”

“Charlie.”

Yeah, he’ll just say her name. It’s been on his mind a lot.

“Hey, Tom.”

Where Charlie’s voice has been panicky and harsh just a second ago, now it’s soft, and Tom doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. She’s pitying him, isn’t she?

“Uhm. I…,” is all that he says, because suddenly his throat is tight and he can’t breathe anymore and the walls are closing in on him.

“Tom, breathe with me.”

How does she know? But it doesn’t matter, because he simply can’t. “I…”

“You can. Listen to my voice. Breathe in. Breath out. That’s good. Again. In. And out. Like that.”

Tom doesn’t even realise, but he adopts her rhythm and suddenly he can breathe again and doesn’t hold on so tight to the table anymore.

“Today,” he croaks. “Sorry for calling. But tonight, I can’t…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

But nothing is okay, and she does know that and hates how helplessly banal and sympathetic she sounds.

Charlie rubs her suddenly throbbing temples, realizing that just ‘second-hand’ suffering because she feels Tom’s pain is almost unbearable. So how does he do it?

She’s equal parts glad and freaked out that he’s turned to her.

Glad because she’s been worried sick if she’s honest. Freaked out and frightened because she doesn’t have the faintest idea how she could help him.

And she wants to help. She really, really does. The realization almost makes her gasp. She can hear herself as clearly as if it was yesterday, protesting that she’s not his Good Samaritan and doesn’t want to be reduced to his shoulder to cry on.

But right now, hearing him like this and imagining him broken, she wants to be exactly that. His shoulder to cry on.

Huh.

Nothing’s okay. And Tom knows that Charlie knows. But the call alone helped him feeling calmer. As far as that’s possible at least.

And even if it’s just for tonight and Charlie doesn’t want to be friends after this, then that’s okay as well.

But she didn’t hang up on him. Even though it in the middle of… oh shit. It’s the middle of the night.

“Did I wake you?” he croaks. “Oh fuck, I woke you up. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t…” But he needs to. Something he can’t say. Shouldn’t say.

“You didn’t wake me. I’m at the hospital. It’s all gonna be fine.” Her voice is as soft and smooth as ever and it doesn’t sound as if she’s mad.

“Nothing’s gonna be fine,” Tom answers and regrets it immediately. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s called, but it wasn’t to throw a pity party.

“Tell me how I can help?”

Well. That’s something Tom doesn’t know himself.

There’s silence on the other end of the line again. Charlie stares blankly at the opposite wall, waiting for Tom to say something, sensing she shouldn’t push him too much but also nudge him a bit.

Her gaze snags on the bulletin board where a few notes and more than a few paintings/drawings are pinned. This is the children’s ward after all, so there’s never a shortage of ‘art’.

A huge lump forms in her throat when she sees the painting Evie brought her a few months ago.

It has two big stick-figure like people with seriously long legs, one of them with short yellow hair and one with longer, somewhat brown hair. Above the yellow-haired one, Evie has written DADDY rather neatly. Above the other one, she has written CHALIE without an R. In the middle is a shorter stick figure with something black in her arms, EVIE written above the head. The girl explained proudly to Charlie that “We were asked to draw a happy picture, so I drawed Daddy and you and me holding Boots”.

Charlie’s heart clenches.

There’s still silence at the other end of the line. Perhaps he needs another nudge?

“Tom, how’s Evie taking it? Does she know?”

Instead of silence, Charlie now hears Tom clearing his throat and then taking a few breaths.

“I don’t think she really knows,” he answers with a rough voice. “She senses I’m not exactly happy and that everyone seems to be whispering. But she doesn’t know the date.”

Charlie nods although she knows Tom can’t see her. “Hm, that’s good I think. But maybe it would also be good if she knew why you’re sad?”

Another intake of breath. “Maybe.”

“Will you both do something together today?” And could she help somehow? Please, let her help somehow, because she can’t just do nothing.

“Visiting…” Tom loses his voice for a moment and Charlie shuts her eyes against the sound of sniffling. It doesn’t help of course. “Visiting the grave.”

“That’s good,” Charlie answers, seemingly the only words she has.

Tom’s next words replace all the other emotions with boiling rage for a moment.

“I just hope there won’t be any paparazzi at the cemetery,” he says dejectedly. “I don’t think I can handle that.”

Fucking inhuman bastards.

“I…uh…saw that so-called article. I’m so, so sorry, Tom. They’re scum. Not worth being upset about.”

Huh. As if she could really relate to how it must feel. As if she had any right to say that. But she just doesn’t know what else to say.

“You’ve always been so good with the media,” she adds hesitantly. “Perhaps you could offer a statement. That you want to be left alone today? I’m sure Luke would help you.”

More silence. A gut-wrenching sigh and sniffle. “Perhaps. I haven’t been online for days. Kind of afraid what I’ll find.”

Oh, damn. It must be so difficult to handle situations like that. She can’t even begin to imagine how awful it must have been a year ago when Tom was much more in the limelight than now that he’s taken a break from acting.

“Maybe I should just write,” she hears him say softly. “Like a diary entry. Or a blog post that will never go life? Do you think it would help?”

There’s so much pain and hope in his voice that Charlie has to blink away moisture.

Now it’s Tom who waits a bit for Charlie to answer. It’s been a stupid idea, hasn’t it? He shouldn’t have mentioned it.

“I think that’s a good idea, Tom,” she finally says. “Write it down. You’re so good with words. And it’s good to get it out of your head.”

She’s right, surely. And it’s Tom who’s suggested it. He knows that. But somehow it feels wrong.

“I want to tell someone.” He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but somehow the words get out. And they’re right.

“Tell your family. I’m sure they won’t judge you. They love you.”

“They pity me,” Tom answers, staring at the table in front of him, and trailing the wood grain.

“You can tell me, if you want to.”

He does. Goodness, he does.

“I…I don’t know where to begin,” Charlie hears him stammer.

“Doesn’t matter. Just…go for it. I’m here.”

Holding the phone pressed to her ear with a shoulder, Charlie gets up. She dumps the now cold coffee in the sink, picks up the mug Tom gave her as a birthday gift and fills it with new coffee from the machine.

She sits back down, cradling the steaming mug in one hand and waiting anxiously.

“It’s just…” Tom draws a deep breath, and she hears some rustling.

“I feel so fucking helpless and pathetic. I miss Em every damn day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Always. Why would it cause a breakdown today? It’s not as if knowing it’s been exactly a year should change anything about the way I remember her, dammit.”

“But it does change, doesn’t it?” Charlie starts softly. “It’s been the first year. The first times of everything. First birthdays, first Christmas, first anniversaries,” she continues. Charlie doesn’t even know if she says the right things. “And now you’ve managed all those things. And of course it’s different today.”

Again, there’s rustling on the other end. But Tom doesn’t say anything despite wanting to talk about it. So, Charlie continues.

“I wish I could understand you more, and at the same time I wish I’ll never have to.” It’s honest, at least. That’s all Charlie has to offer tonight.

“I wish you won’t understand as well,” Tom answers after a few moments. “It’s fucking horrible. Not just because I remember everything she’s ever done and how we laughed and what we talked about. Evie misses her. And I can’t replace Em. But I have to somehow.”

Tom swallows so hard, Charlie can hear it over the phone. And her throat is suddenly filled with rusty nails. Oh, Tom.

“You don’t have to replace her, Tom. You’re her father. You’re doing everything you can.”

Is he, though?

Tom rubs his throbbing temples.

Sometimes he feels as if he isn’t really doing much at all. At other times he wants to pat himself on the back for making it through a whole day smiling and maybe hearing Evie say something intelligent that fills him with pride–and then remembering that Emily isn’t there to share the pride with him.

“You know,” he hears himself say, “sometimes I think it would be easier for me if I were completely alone. I know that sounds completely bonkers but what I mean is… If it were just me and my old life, I could go on somehow. But It’s me and Evie, and there’s something almost every day connected to her that I want desperately to share with her mother. But she isn’t here to share it with, and sometimes that slays me.”

Okay, maybe he’s not the only one slowly going insane – or rapidly going insane – Tom thinks next as Charlie answers with, “Tell her then.”

He must have heard wrong. “I can’t  _tell_  her, though,” he answers, voice strained. “She’s not here.”

“I know, Tom. I know. But you wanted to write it down, didn’t you? Do it in the evening. Take 15 minutes, 30 minutes after Evie’s gone to bed and write about your day. Or Evie’s day.”

“That can’t be healthy,” he mumbles and then almost jumps when Charlie answers. He didn’t want her to hear.

“It’s healthier than bury yourself along with Emily.” To his unenthusiastic grunt, Charlie simply continues, “Or tell Evie about her. She wants to remember too.”

“But it hurts.”

“Well, it hurts no matter what, I think? You might as well try.”

Tom shifts on his chair, his headache still raging but his tears of frustration drying.

“Maybe. Can’t hurt more than it already does, can it?”

“Oh, Tom.”

He does hear pity in Charlie’s voice, but oddly he doesn’t mind.

“You know what I’m scared of?” he hears himself blurt out, then wonders why he’s telling her all this.

“What, Tom?”

“Evie is so young. She’ll learn so many new things, change and grow, make all her own experiences. What if…” He chokes the huge lump in his throat back down. “What if she forgets Em one day? What if later in life, she has only a vague memory or simply believes whatever I tell her but doesn’t actually remember how wonderful her mother was and how much she loved Evie?”

Charlie doesn’t know. Of course, she doesn’t, she’s never been in this situation before. She can only try now, right?

“I’m sure Evie won’t forget. You’ll make sure of that. Keep the memories alive that she already has. Like how she made pancakes. Or what she made for breakfast. Evie so often tells me, ‘Mummy used to say this and Mummy used to do that. Encourage that, Tom.”

“You think?” he asks after a long pause. “I don’t know, if I can do that. It hurts.”

Before Charlie can answer, the door to the staff room opens and in walks her colleague. “You’re needed in the ER,” he says, and looks likes it’s urgent. “I tried to page you, sorry. Hurry, please?”

And with that he’s off. Charlie wants to explain to Tom, but he’s obviously heard. “You have to work, don’t you?”

She hears the sadness, and it almost kills her. “I do. But I’m off at six, I can…”

“No, no. Not necessary. You need to sleep. And work. Thank you for listening.”

* * *

Tom stands in the kitchen, waiting for his fourth cup of coffee to brew. It’s not even 7 a.m. and he’s running–well, shuffling–solely on caffeine and anxiety.

Evie will wake up soon. He still hasn’t figured out whether he should tell her this morning or simply take her to the cemetery and then explain things. He also still hasn’t figured out how he’s going to survive today, but at least it’s become a bit easier to breathe and function, barely.

He has Charlie to thank for that.

“A friend in need is a friend indeed,” he mumbles to himself and reaches for a mug to fill it with a fresh load of black brew.

It’s the Shakespearean Insult Mug that Emily gave him for his 34th birthday. Chipped but still his favourite.

Great, now he’s got the sniffles again. When he yanks the full mug close too vehemently, scalding liquid sloshes over and onto his trembling hand, and Tom curses viciously–flinching when he remembers he might wake his daughter.

Before he can register that the burn on his hand isn’t half as painful as the burning sensation in his heart, there’s a knock on his door.

Who the hell could it be, today of all days and so early in the morning?

Surely, they’ll go away, whoever it is. Right? Tom’s in no state to open the door to anyone today. Maybe not tomorrow, either. Plus, he should hold his hand under some cold water, shouldn’t he?

But then the knocking comes again, and Tom is torn between saying  _fuck you_  to anyone there and the worry that Evie could wake up earlier than he’s ready for. Maybe he should just let her sleep all day?

Knowing that that won’t happen, Tom cradles his hand a bit to his chest and goes to the front door. Whoever it is, at least they had the decency not to ring the bell.

When Tom opens the door, he stops. And stares. He must be so tired he’s seeing things. This can’t be. And before he can say anything, the woman in front of him holds up a carrier with two cups of coffee in one hand and a bag from a bakery with the other.

“I brought breakfast,” Charlie says, and before Tom can do anything, she’s slipped past him and walks straight into his kitchen.

Huh?

* * *

Once she’s dumped her load onto the kitchen counter, she turns back to Tom hovering silently.

He looks like he’s seen a ghost. Which, today of all days, is probably not a good idea but makes a lot of sense.

When he continues to just stare at her, Charlie swallows heavily. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to come here after all? She shifts from one foot to the other under Tom’s stare, watching his expressive face fo through three–at least–different emotions.

After all, they’ve been avoiding each other for some time. Which was her idea. And she has a feeling he probably debated a hundred times whether to even call her.

But she’s glad he did call, and she desperately wants to help in some way or other. So she’s come here as soon as her night shift was over, even though she’s exhausted and could do with sleep or alternatively ten gallons of coffee.

Hoping to get through to him with the magical word, Charlie softly repeats, “Breakfast?”

To be fair, she would have probably laughed at him, if it did work, but it didn’t anyway. Tom’s still staring.

And, as funny as it sounds, if not even the mention of breakfast gets him out of his state, then the situation really is bad.

So, Charlie simply lets him come to terms with this on his own. She opens the cupboards to receive plates – Evie’s own set as well of course – and then slowly sets the table while casting quiet glances at Tom now and then.

He looks horrible. There are purple bags under his eyes, his long curls are a mess and the beard’s not trimmed. His glasses have fingerprints on them, probably from taking them off and then putting them on again so often. And he’s wearing his sweatpants that have seen better days, a t-shirt and a hoodie.

It looks comfortable to snuggle in, but that should be the last thing on Charlie’s mind.

There’s also a red spot on his hand, and Charlie sees the coffee stain on the counter and how Tom cradles his hand.

Softly she says, “Oh, Tom. Let me look at that,” as she mentions for his hand.

It makes him come closer, still saying nothing though.

So, Charlie takes his hand softly, and leads him to the sink to let cold water run over his burn.

It almost startles her when she does hear Tom’s raspy voice. “You’re here,” he whispers.

She nods. “Of course I am.”

Tom is still not sure whether he’s hallucinating or dreaming. But his hand stings like a menace when the cold water hits the burn, so maybe it IS real after all?

He wants it to be real, that’s for sure.

“Charlie?”

“Mhm.” She’s in doctor mode, turning the water off to inspect his hand and tutting softly to herself.

“Why’re you here?”

She stills, and it takes her a long moment to lift her head and look him in the eye.

“I guess…” Now she sounds as croaky as he does. “I guess I just had to come. I can’t give you a hug from afar, can I?”

His brain takes too long to process what she might mean, and then too long to react.

“You…want to give me a hug?”

Goodness, he sounds incredulous as hell…and hopeful as hell.

“Yes?” It comes out as a question, and even in his befuddled state, Tom realizes she doesn’t look too sure of herself, though she’s bossed her way into his home with breakfast.

“I’d like that,” he blurts out.

Charlie tries not to be too eager. She really does. But she fails. She’s just so happy to actually see him and to know that he’s still here and hasn’t done anything stupid.

“Well, come here then,” she says as she lets go of his hand. But he still doesn’t react. Hell, Tom looks like he’s asleep standing up with open eyes.

So, Charlie – again – takes matters into her own hands. Or into her own arms actually.

She steps closer and without giving Tom much time to think, she wraps her arms around Tom’s waist and rests her head on his chest.

He smells good – like lots of coffee this morning – and feels good as well. A little stiff maybe.

“Hi,” she whispers and that seems to do the trick, as she feels Tom’s arms around her shoulder and then his breath on her neck.

“Oh god, Charlie,” he croaks.

* * *

This. This is apparently what he’s needed all this time.

Of course, it won’t make the problems go away. Nothing will. And perhaps he doesn’t even want the grieve to go away…yet. But it makes him feel more human. More like himself.

And so Tom dips his head until he can rest his quivering chin on top of Charlie’s hair, and he feels her tighten her embrace.

He’s aware that he’s crying again, but can’t bring himself to mind.

If he could ask for a small favour right now, all he would ask for is that he can stand here, like this, a little while longer. With a woman who cares in his arms, and a moment to simply let go.

“Daddy?”

He’s so lost in the moment he can’t even flinch or stop crying or move away when he hears Evie’s voice. He cracks an eye open and sees her standing in the kitchen door in her pajamas, staring.

“Oh, Doctor Charlie!” Now she’s bouncing a little.

To her credit, Charlie doesn’t move away either.

Before either of them can react, his daughter approaches. “Can I have a hug too?”

This time, Charlie does move–to hold out a hand. The next thing Tom knows, his little girl is squeezing herself in between them and they’re bound together in a sort of group hug.

Charlie feels Tom’s tears and how Evie stands between them, shuffling around a bit, wrapping her arms around Charlie’s thighs while her back is pressed against Tom’s legs.

It’s so comfortable and normal that Charlie has to swallow down the lump in her throat and blink back tears.

“Why are we hugging?” the little girl asks.

Charlie’s sure Tom still doesn’t want to let Evie know everything. Not yet. So she mumbles, “Because sometimes we just need hugs, little one,” into Tom’s chest. He, in turn, tightens his hold on Charlie’s shoulders.

“That’s right,” Evie answers. “Daddy’s a little sad sometimes,” she then adds, and Charlie suppresses a sigh.

Of course Evie senses that something’s wrong.

Tom clears his throat, and one arm leaves Charlie so he can put a hand on Evie’s shoulder. “I am a little. Yes.”

“Why?”

Now, Charlie does lean back a little so that Tom automatically does as well. Charlie looks from Evie to Tom and back. Then back at Tom again as she shrugs little.

What does he want to tell her?

He should probably break this embrace, man up and get this over with.

But somehow Tom doesn’t feel very much of a man today, though he knows he’s definitely a father. So he pulls Charlie a little closer again and soaks up some strength before cautiously trying to give his daughter the answer she deserves.

“You’re right, munchkin, Daddy is sad sometimes. That’s because he misses Mommy. And…” He clears his throat, which seems to be filled with gravel and rusty nails. “And today he misses her even more. And hugs help. A little. It’s like when you hit your head, remember? It didn’t exactly make the pain less when I hugged you, but it made it easier, right?”

Godness, is he even making sense? He wants to bury his face in Charlie’s sweet-smelling hair but he holds Evie’s solemn gaze, not sure how she’ll react and how on earth he’ll react to her reaction.

Charlie’s heart breaks when she sees the understanding expression on Evie’s face.

“Uh-huh,” she says and nods. “It was comfortabelly.”

Charlie chuckles a bit. “Comfortable, Evie.” It doesn’t even make Tom smile and Charlie sobers. Ah, hell.

“Why are you sadder now, Daddy?”

Ah, hell, again.

“Uhm.” Tom looks so utterly helpless that Charlie almost can’t take it anymore. So, she does what she seemingly does best. She plays good Samaritan.

“Evie, do you remember that your Mummy wasn’t there on your last birthday?” Evie nods. “And in three months it’s your birthday again. And a year ago today your Mummy…” Charlie cringes. Fuck, she’s doing this so badly. “Uhm, died.”

Evie looks between Charlie and Tom. “Oh.”

* * *

Tom feels his heart break for the umpteenth time. Not that it gets less painful with time.

He squeezes Charlie’s shoulder in gratitude. Of course, Emma and Sarah and his Mom were real angels all this time and helped him tremendously with Evie, as well as to cope with Em’s loss. But sometimes their pity is suffocating, and at other times he feels guilty for relying on them too much. He feels a bit guilty for pulling Charlie into this too, but then again, he’s never forced her. And she truly is such a special, wonderful person.

They stand there a bit longer, Evie looking sad but not crying. That’s something, at least.

“Sometimes,” she says in a small voice, “it feels like Mummy’s been gone sooo long. Sometimes it doesn’t.”

Oh goodness. Heartbreak yet again.

“I think your father sometimes feels like that as well,” he hears Charlie say as she nudges him a bit.

His little, so very very strong daughter looks up at him. “Really? It’s not just me?”

He wants to say yes, croak it out maybe, but even that small word gets stuck in his throat. And he feels new tears. And then Charlie nudges him again.

Tom looks at her and meets her gaze. Wide eyes and a little movement of her head tell him what to do. He can do this, right?

So, he goes to the kitchen table and sits on ‘his’ chair, reaching out a hand for Evie to hold. She shuffles closer and automatically sits on his lap. He loves having her in his arms.

“It’s not just you who feels like that, munchkin. I do too. Sometimes you feel like Mummy’s going to walk into the room, right? And sometimes you can’t remember when you last talked to her?” he asks, holding Evie closer.

She turns a little bit so she can look at him, and nods. “Sometimes I want her to read me a story.”

There goes his heart again.

* * *

Charlie stifles a sniffle. She’s got something in her eye, right? Or is that her heart squeezing itself out of her eyes? These two are so important and dear to her, she can feel their pain as if it’s hers.

Swallowing thickly, she moves to get breakfast ready, listening quietly to Tom’s wobbly, halting murmur and Evie’s soft, pretty forward answers.

Charlie is dead tired and way too emotional but underneath it all, she feels relieved she’s come. In an odd way, she wants to be here. Be there for them. Because that’s what you do if you love someone, be it a child or a man or both a man and his child.

The realization has her freeze mid-movement, and she barely manages to keep Evie’s cup from falling to the floor.

Almost as if Tom has heard her thoughts, he looks up from his conversation and sends her the first attempt at a shaky smile she’s seen today.

Does he realise what she’s feeling? Can he hear her thoughts?

Oh goodness, does he know?

Charlie’s hands get all sweaty, and she has to hold on to the table for a moment, fearing that she might faint.

Well, they kissed. And he knows she wanted more, or else he wouldn’t have said he didn’t want to. Right? Right.

Charlie busies herself stocking rolls and croissants neatly on the table. She’s going to scare him away, she knows it.

“…ask Charlie,” she hears faintly, but doesn’t react to it. She can’t.

God, she loves both of them, she should have known. Did she know? Surely she knew. Surely Tom knows and then he panics.

The shouted “CHARLIE!” takes her back to present time. “Huh?” she asks rather dumbly and looks at Evie.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” 

“Um, sorry. Tell me again, Evie?”

She tries to smile apologetically and ecouragingly at the same time, aware of not just the little girl but also Tom watching her closely. Goodness, these two with their intense focus and pleading eyes could melt the devil’s heart.

“Daddy said today he will take me to see Mummy later. Well, not Mummy but where they put her body to sleep forever and ever.”

Gah. The grave. She must be talking about a visit to the grave. Charlie swallows down a lump, seeing Tom scrunch up his face as if he’s holding back fresh tears.

“Daddy said I don’t have to go if I think it will make me too sad. But I wanna go with him. Will you come too?”

Oh shit. Oh no. She wants to help. She does. But isn’t that a bit much? Charlie feels like she’d be going ways she shouldn’t go. It’s not her place to visit. Surely? She doesn’t know anything anymore.

Plus, she means it. She is practically asleep on her feet. Apart from the eight hours of night shift, she’s been at the hospital earlier. It’s been more than 14 hours. She doesn’t even know, if she’ll be awake by the time they both want to visit.

“Charlieeee?” Oh. It’s seems as if she’s been alone with her thoughts too long again. Evie’s getting impatient.

“Uhm,” Charlie starts. “Don’t you want to be alone with your Mummy? With Em?” she asks, looking from the little girl to Tom, who looks at her almost as hopeful as Evie does.

“I want you there,” Evie says.

Charlie looks at Tom. What does he want?

Tom stares at her for a long time, his eyes red-rimmed from all the crying. She sees him think, can almost hear him come to a decision.

Shifting Evie on his lap, he strokes her head without breaking Charlie’s gaze.

When he speaks, his voice is rough and croaky but firm. “Evie, perhaps we shouldn’t ask too much of Charlie, hm? You know, she didn’t sleep last night like you. She had a night shift. That means she worked for long hours at the hospital without even once falling asleep. And then she came here with breakfast and trying to give us hugs and make us smile. That’s all very exhausting, don’t you think?”

Wide-eyed, his daughter nods while Charlie’s heart is about ready to explode again.

“You know how cranky and tired you feel when you don’t sleep long enough?” Tom asks Evie, which earns him another nod.

“See. I bet Charlie feels even worse than that. So maybe we shouldn’t put pressure on her. She can have breakfast with us and maybe give us another hug and then go home and sleep. Okay? And we’ll say thank you that she was there for us when we needed her.”

Even being so very tired himself, Tom can clearly see how everything Charlie wants is her bed.

And yet, she’s here. With them, preparing breakfast. And god, he’s happy she is. Not because he’s overly hungry – he isn’t – but because she’s simply there with him. For him. And Evie.

Evie, who looks a little crestfallen, but then nods understandingly. “I like Charlie’s hugs,” she says, and Tom can’t help but agree. “I loooove them. And breakfast,” his daughter continues. And with that she’s off Tom’s lap and on her own chair, seemingly ready to eat.

Tom shakes his head a little. Evie is like him, obviously.

“I know you do,” Charlie says. “That’s why I brought it.”

He can’t help but smile at her. Admittedly, it’s a bit wobbly. But he manages. “Thank you,” he mumbles. And he means it.

Charlie smiles. Oh, she’s heard him, hasn’t she? “You’re welcome. Now, eat.” 

* * *

Tom struggles a bit with opening the front door one-handed.

His other arm is carrying and holding Evie close, who’s wrapped herself around him like a clingy monkey baby.

They’re back from their visit at the grave–without Charlie, who’s sent them off with another big hug and promised to wait for them at home.

Ever since they were at the grave, Evie is clinging onto him, as if she’s afraid her father might leave her too. She’s broken his heart about a dozen times, especially when she placed her little hand on the gravestone and quietly told Em that she loves her.

But Tom’s all out of tears now, the grief more than a constant weight on his shoulder and grip around his heart than actual crying.

He’s glad he talked to his daughter, though, and shared this experience with her.

Finally managing to open the door, he steps insid and, toes of his shoes. He presses a kiss onto Evie’s head, and calls out. “Charlie?” Whoa, he’s still very croaky. “We’re back.”

No answer.

With a gasp, Evie lifts her head from his shoulder. “Did she go? No!”

Did she? He couldn’t fault her, but he feels another lump form in his throat. Perhaps it’s good that she’s gone. She’s sacrificed her rest to be there for him, even though they technically weren’t–aren’t???–even friends anymore.

Shuffling into the living room and hoping she might have left them a note for Evie’s sake, Tom stops short.

Curled up on the couch, Charlie is sleeping peacefully.

Tom feels Evie slowly starting to bounce in his arms. Before she can let out a scream that’ll surely wake Charlie, he silences his daughter with a, “Shh, Charlie’s sleeping, we don’t want to wake her.”

Evie nods and drops her head back on his shoulder, a picture of calmness on her face. It’s the same look he often sports when he’s with Charlie and Evie. Well, with Charlie mostly.

Tom looks at the couch and at the woman on top of it. There she is.

His heart gives a mighty tug, and Tom almost lets go of Evie. He holds her a little tighter. Today’s been hell. But here he is, alive and almost sane. And it’s thanks to Charlie.

With a start Tom realises that it’s not because she’s his friend – was his friend, whatever. It’s… more? Maybe? And it’s not because she’s helping.

Here she is, on the worst day of Tom’s year, and all he wants to do is grab a duvet so Charlie can have it warm.

He’s still in his jacket and Evie is as well, and all Tom wants to do is to cover Charlie.

It scares the shit out of him. Makes him all sweaty and his blood warmer, running faster. But she’s not his friend, is she? Maybe she was, but she’s not anymore.

She’s more. She’s someone who doesn’t leave him and she’s someone who believes in him. And he wants to be that for her as well. Give something back.

“Hey, Evie,” he whispers. “Why don’t you go and take off your jacket and then we watch some cartoons in the big bedroom?”

Evie seemingly loves the idea, almost jumping out of his arms. At the door she turns. “Daddy? Will Doctor Charlie watch with us?”

Another tug on his heart. “Maybe she’ll join us later.”

And with that Evie leaves the room and Tom does take a blanket and covers Charlie. Maybe she will join them when he’s ready for her.


End file.
